Trigger warning: Subjects of bulimia, bipolar disorder, rape, depression, suicide attempt, and self-harm. Please take caution when reading and always talk to me if you need to.
“She’s your…aunt? The one that raped you when you were younger?” I asked in shock and disbelief.
“And now.” He nodded solemnly.
“Did she…did she just rape you?”
He nodded and buried his face in his knees as he shook more.
“You’ve got to tell someone, Dan. We can tell Valerie. She can get the police and—”
“No!” he shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls. “You can’t tell, Phil. You can’t. Promise me you won’t.”
“…why? Don’t you want her to go to jail for what she’s done to you?” I shouted, blinded by rage.
“I don’t want anyone to know. It’s pathetic and humiliating. For fucks sake, I’m a guy! I should be able to defend myself.”
“It doesn’t matter that you’re a guy. That’s got nothing to do with anything. It’s not your fault.”
“Just please don’t tell, Phil. You can’t. Please.” He begged, tears still running down his face.
“I won’t. But I wish you would tell someone.” I whispered pulling him into me.