I can't help but blame myself. The pain I harbor in my heart rips me apart on a daily basis. For a 11 years I have carried the burden of what has happened to me on my shoulders. I feel as if I could have done more, I could have stopped it. The question swarms in my mind, "Is it my fault?" The first time I was abused I was 4, I finally realized it was wrong when I was about 7. When I told, the pain I saw in my mothers eyes was unbearable. The way people looked at me like I was helpless, It was horrific. I didn't want to go through the process again, so when a different man came along and did the same thing I couldn't tell, partly because of who it was. I let this filthy man put his hands on me. I am too afraid to tell, I am afraid of what people would think of me. I am a broken mess that has became damaged. How could anyone want me after I have been used so many times? I can't wash the filth I feel from my skin, I can't remove the feeling of his hands on my body. The worst part is that I sit in my room and cry over what I have lost and no one knows why. I pretend like everything is alright while I am slowly deteriorating on the inside, I don't know how much longer I can keep going. I wish I could tell, speak his name, ruin him like he ruined me, but I am too weak and afraid.