I was in third grade, and there was this little shop near school whose owner always called me "sweetheart" whenever I'd pass by.
He beckoned me in one day:
"Yes, uncle?"
He said: "You're so pretty! Who brushed your hair so? Your cheeks are so red, look, look at them in the mirror!"

Then he started touching me, and I felt that he was doing something that he wasn't supposed to be doing.
So, I told him, "Can I take my school bag home, uncle, and come back?"
And he said, "Sure, but don’t be long, I'll wait for you and I won't close the shop."
I went home and told my mom everything that had happened.

 Mom took me by the hand and we went to his shop.
"You go in first," she said.
The moment he saw me, he said, "Hello darling," and he put me on his lap.
My mom walked in on us.
"What are you doing? What's this little girl doing here?"
He told me, "Don’t move."
He told her, "She's a cousin's daughter."

Then he told me, "Don’t be scared sweetheart," and he started touching me in front of my mom.
My mom gave him such a slap across his face.
"You dirty dog!” And she called him all sorts of names.
She made a scene and got the whole street to listen, and insisted that I tell what happened in front of everyone.