I was raped.

I never told anyone, not my mum, not my boyfriend at the time, not my sister, not the police, not even my best friend.

I'd been walking home from school, I was 14-15, and had a little shortcut down the back of the bowling alley by school that I always used to take to get home, because it cut about 5 minutes off the time it'd take along the main road.

One time though, about a week or two before the last day of school, I was on my way home when someone stepped out from one of the scrap piles out the back of the bowling alley. I tried to walk around the guy, but he kept moving to get in my way. I managed to step past him, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back before spinning me around and pushing me to the wall.

That man did unspeakable things to me. But what makes me feel so bad about what I did was that I still take that same route, hoping to see him again. And I did. A few times. And gave him my number.

I am disgusting.