Unwanted Secret: A Confession

Today I want to write a confession. A few years ago, back in highschool, I'm not quite sure when (3rd or 4th year maybe), my life took a sharp turn because of a boy who was close to me until the point where he messed up my life. I've known him since birth, he was I think less than a year older than me. I can't remember his birthday anymore. He is a far bloodline relative and a neighbor so we can say he's my kababata and he would have been a very good big brother of some sort if all went well. The thing is this. After my 2nd year highschool eyeopening era of the harsh realities of life which I intend to share later on, another despicable and well traumatic experience aroused. As a backround, this person who I refuse to type the name, is a gamebuddy of my brother. Since he's an only son and my brother the only young male in the house after my cousins Michoe and Mickee migrated in Canada, (the 5 of us were really close when we were little...kuyas Michoe and Mickee, my brother Richard and me, and he-who-must-not-be-named) he constantly go to our house (specifically our bedroom since Richard and I, with Mama, Papa and my younger sister Jhoanne share only one room in the house) just to play Famliy Computer, Sega, and the latest was the Play Station. Most of the time he comes in the morning or after lunch then until dark. And me being an insomniac and a sleep addict, during weekends it has been a habit that I wake up as late as I want. A lot of times when I wake up, he's already there playing. The scenario usually is like this: my brother on the 2nd level of our double deck bed holding controller, focused on the TV; me sleeping on the first level at the far inside end almost touching the wall, sometimes with my arms wrapped around a pillow; and him sitting on the bed, "focused" on the TV, back in front of me. I'm not really sure when funny things started to happen and honestly, no matter how curious I am, I don't wanna know. One day I realized that I was having weird "sexual" dreams (or nightmares if i can call it that), and weird sensations on my upper private part. Sometimes, I wake up abruptly, like being waken up by something but when I look around, everything's minding their own business. Waking up in an instant is like getting sucked from the deep sleep into reality in a split second with a sort of shock and bounce in the first intake of air. It was troubling as it is. At first I disregarded the sensation, thinking that it might be because of how I was positioned while sleeping...because sometimes when you put your weight on your arms maybe, when you sleep, sometimes when you wake up your arms feel numb, right? That's what I thought! It would never occur to me during that time that whats-his-name would have a dark green intention on his sister-like friend! No wonder he does everything I say without hesitation. No wonder he's so quiet. No wonder...:( When it occured to me that something fishy was really happening, I still couldn't believe it. I just had to see it with my own eyes. I may just as well be dreaming at this point. One morning, I woke up quietly, peeking under my embraced pillow, seeing his back instantly too close to me; eventhough the bed was big enough for the both of us to be a lot farther apart, he was still cramming himself on me. That is when I held my breath really and waited. Not long, I saw dark hands creeping on the bed, under the pillow, and then my worst fear is confirmed. I froze in disbelief. Could this really be happening? There was no hatred. Only pure disbelief. I can't get out of bed. I was almost crying at this point. I changed my position hoping he can't touch me this time. But still he managed. Now there's pity, there's the how can he do this to me and why is he doing this? Shock is the word for it. 'Suntok sa buwan.' Of all people, why me? Why him? This harsh reality was so hard to swallow...is actually. At this moment, he changed my life. Whether there is good in it, I'm not too sure. Of course there's the bad part...the trauma. Before that, there's something more troublesome than any of these reactions. The fact of the matter is, ...it's hard to admit but... the sensation, weird as it is, bad as is should be, cursed as I would want it to be, was pleasurable. This certain part made me hate him. He put unto me the curse of horniness men are enjoying. Later on I would feel myself, I would dream and fantasize. But knowing how bad it is according to my beliefs, I fought it with all my might and now I'm able to live with the minimal thought of sex. The touch is said to be the most emotional form of communication. A man's touch on a woman is heaven in the sensation of the flesh but I know that this feeling should have to wait until such time that I will be married to the man worthy of touching me. This has been the trouble in my mind more than anything. This is my secret. No one has ever known. Putting it here is a risk I've got to take. I've told Tita Ollie about the incident but that was it. This may be normal for a lot of people but I refuse to accept it. If I were innocent on this topic, curious as I am, it think would be better for me. I wanted to learn about man and woman's sexual activities when I get bound to a lifelong commitment with my partner. That is why sometimes, I get uneasy watching arousing scenes, or reading arousing texts. My story hasn't ended yet. I was not yet crying that time. I felt my heart pounding, with mixed emotions, one with anticipation. I removed my pillow and waited. With eyes closed, I could feel him a couple of times peering under my shirt. I still didn't move. The last thing he did was this: something that will haunt me for the rest of my life... He slid his palm under my shirt, under my bra, on top of my left breast. He laid it there for a long while. Then he played with the nipple and kinda stretched it once before he pressed one last time, hard to slid his hand free. "It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now..." A few moments more and I was in the bathroom crying. That was the end of it. I cried once and that's it. I'll never cry again for the bastard. I'm right here pouring my heart out, hard as it is for me. I won't argue the fact that I there's something that makes me breathe deeply when I see or think about anything that involves him. I'm not quite sure if I hate him. Nanghinayang talaga akong mawala siya bilang kaibigan at kababata ko. But that's just the way it is. Things can never be the same again. I can't face him anymore without the memories rushing back to me. I've brought this topic to confession just this year. It actually made things easier for me. I've forgotten my experience. I know I already forgave him. But one thing bothers me...he never asked for forgiveness. He never explained himself. I don't know if it was my fault when I told him never to let me see his face again that he never had the chance to say sorry. But he could if he wanted to. Even through a letter. I do not like the idea that things will be forever like this between us. That the pain will never ease, the tension will always be there. I'd like to walk freely, not being worried when I see him. I just wish I could hear his side. But I do not want to be the one to initiate it. I'm too afraid of what I might hear. I just don't like it when there's nothing to do and suddenly I remember those things that ruined my vision of a goodness somewhere in a man. It just made me trust less, love less, restrict my feelings, control/hide/pigil my emotions toward the opposite sex. Although I'm not really the vocal type when it comes to these confessing of love or like, the mad torture made me hide in my shell more. On top of all these, I learned about my father's loyalty to my mom to be foul just some time ago during my second year high school. I intend not to face this trauma yet (if I do have a trauma). Let's say that I'm afraid to love. Don't blame me for having something bad happen to me at such a tender age. The day after the incident I think, I wrote a letter to jerkman telling him not to dare set foot on our house again, to never let me see him again. I gave it to him when he was on his way home. That was our last conversation. He never went back to play with my brother anymore. But being as close as he is to me, location-wise and social-wise, there will always be the possibility that I come across him. Of course I would act as if there's no one there. So will he. There are events still that fate destines us to see each other again. Two times already happened when he was also invited to our family swimming. What can I do? Nothing. That's how harsh it really is for me. One time, I had to help him with the food in the wake of her grandmother. It sets my mood to down under hell whenever I see him, or hear his voice, or hear his name, etc. I've accepted the fact that I have to live this way forever. But I hope that things will change. When I accepted this, I also learned to make myself numb of things that might hurt me. I've grown in wisdom, in caution. Yet I also developed fear, uncertainty... I wish this never happened but I know this wish can never come true. Reality bites. But happiness is just within my reach. So I bury this secret, I lock this memory, I close this chapter and continue being happy with my life. This is the last time I'm going to be open about it...until I make a decision to tell my mom about it. Trials make you strong. Now I'm wonderwoman!:p