It was my grandfather's wake. Tex, my older cousin's older husband (that's the first time I ever wrote his vile name) offered to take all the little girls for a ride to get us out of the funeral home. I was sitting in the front seat next to him, my sister, who was 7, was sitting next to me, by the window.

We parked in a dark place overlooking a lake. He reached over and started rubbing my vagina. He kept saying "you like that? I know it feels good." I couldn't speak. I tried to push his hand away. I was only 3. It felt horrible. He then slipped his finger inside the leg of my underware and kept rubbing. I think I whimpered, and kept pushing his hand away with all my might. He stopped.

He reached over and started doing the same thing to my sister. She didn't try to stop him. In my little mind, I remember wondering how can she let him do that? The whole time the bastard kept talking to me. He said "see, your sister is a good girl. She doesn't push my hand away or try to be mean to me. She knows what's good."

He ended with "if you tell anyone, they'll know that you're a dirty little girl and your mother won't love you anymore if you're dirty." I never told.

For the next 8 years I fought him off. I avoided him. I never wore a dress in his presence. He never got me again, except for quick pinches on my butt, and quick pats to my vagina. I'd slap his hand away and run.

When I was about 12 yrs. old, the bastard brought my mother and I out to the country to visit my grandmother. While all the ladies were sitting on the front porch talking, hecame around to the back of the house where I was swinging.

He said "come here and talk to me."

No!

Come on, please. I'll give you some money.

I don't want your stinkin' money.

Then I'll go tell your mother that you're a nasty little girl.

And I'll go tell my daddy that you're a nasty old man and he'll kill you!

He never came close to me again. Where that came from? I have no idea. How could such a little girl muster up that kind of bravado? Don't know. I only know I called his bluff, and he proved that he was a stinking, nasty coward.

My sister and I never discussed it. When I was 27 yrs. old, my sister's daughter got molested by her grandfather. That opened the flood gates, and we spilled our guts.

I found out that the bastard had actually raped my sister repeatedly over the years. I was horrified. I asked her why in the hell didn't she fight him like I did. She said he told her that it was either her or me. She allowed that vile man to rape her to protect me.

We danced on his grave, but not a day goes by that I don't want to beat his ass unmercifully. Even though I'm the youngest, I have a lot more gumption. I could have saved her from him. If only I'd known.