I posted a poem called "Two Men" on here a few weeks ago. About when my grandfather molested me and the way my bf has helped me get through it.

Well when I was 7,8, 9 and 10 years old, I was molested by my grandfather. Almost daily. Though I never told my mother. See he was always sick or something, so my mom would cook him supper, and then she'd have we walk across our yard and the little dirt road and take it to him. He'd always have to give me what he called a reward, but it was torture to me, and if I told him to stop he'd just do it harder. He thought I liked him feeling of my chest and fingering me, but I always went home and cried in my room afterwards.

Then one day when I was 10 or so. He fell and broke his back, and was in the hospital and rehab for almost two years. So I was 12 by the time he was home full time.

I went to take him food one day and he grabbed me around the waist like he always used to but I wasn't going to let him get me this time. I was bigger and stronger than him and I wasn't giving in. I grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him and told him if he ever tried anything on me again that I'd make sure he went back to the hospital to stay.

And now, the bastard is dead and for some reason my mom can't figure out why I never missed him or cried at the funeral like everyone else did.