When I was in 5th grade, I FULLY started realising what my uncle was doing was incredibly wrong.
I knew it, because of how many programs there were at school to prevent things like that from happening.
Sadly, every one of those programs, I felt incredibly guilty for not telling.
But back to the story.
I remember being at my good friend Alexis's house, and we were watching her older sister throw tricks on a skateboard.
I felt at that moment,that for some reason, I should tell her.
We were already so close, and I hoped she would understand.
But for some reason, I said my father's name instead of my uncle's.
I told her everything he had done to me, but replaced the name with my father's.
And let me tell you, that was the worst thing I've ever done in my life.
That was my daddy, and I basically ruined his life in one day.
Not even a day! Only an hour...
I still feel extreamly guilty about it and I don't understand how he can still love me after all that.
I don't even really understand why I said his name.
