We Weren't Playing

I’m a guy.
I was ten years old at the time.
We were living in a family house,
Which meant I was oftentimes left alone with other family members.
They’d tell me they were just going to play with my toys,
But we never actually played with them.

I didn’t understand what was going on.
They’d take off their pants,
And make me touch their genitals.
They’d hug me from behind,
Or make me lie down on the floor,
And lie on top of me.
The last time,
They said they were going to show me a new game.
They gathered in one apartment,
And raped me.
There were three of them.

They told me not to tell anybody about any of the things that happened.
I got away from them that day,
But I didn’t tell my parents.
I didn’t really understand what was going on.

They tried to do it again after that.
But I refused.
I stopped visiting them.
They told our neighbors whom we used to play with in the street.
They’d make fun of me whenever they saw me.
They’d ask me who of my cousins had the biggest genitals.
They’d hit me and make fun of me,
Just so I would tell them what my cousins used to do to me.

Years later,
I began to understand what it was they did to me.
But I still kept quiet.
I didn’t tell anyone.

Years have passed since then,
I used to not think about it a lot.
But now,
I think about it all the time.
I don’t know what to do.
My cousins are adults now.
They’re married and have children.
If I speak up,
They’ll get into trouble with their families and kids.
And it’s going to cause problems with my family.

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