I remember many happy moments of my childhood. My 6th birthday party, my first dog, learning to swim, and the cabbage patch doll my nana gave me on my ninth Christmas. I also remember some sad moments, like when my nana died a year after she gave me that gift, followed by my dog a couple months later. That's what happens in life, of a mixture of the good and the bad. Little did I know, that in a few years, I would experience the pinnacle moments that would change me. Everyone talks about missing their childhood, wanting to go back to relive those moments. Me, mine ended early, all I wish is to go back and live them in the first place. Here's where the story of My life actually begins.

I was getting ready to celebrate my 13th birthday, always right after Christmas and always the day we went back to school. I wanted to make the most of my Christmas break. Hell, I was about to leave childhood, I was about to be a teenager. The good years were about to begin. Or atleast that's what I thought.

Although puberty had made my life awkward, I was happy. I was overweight, had fuzzy hair, big breasts, and Alot of friends. We were all so close, nothing could stop us. We were outgoing, and happy, and none of us cared what anyone thought of us. When Christmas vacation started everyone hugged and ran off laughing, just to be happy to be out of school for awhile.

When I got home I got ready for my regular visit to my grandparents house. In the summers I visited them in Maine, the winters, here in Florida. It only lasted a week, but it was always great. Maybe they spoiled me a little bit, but, I was an only child and they got away with it. My grandfather was my grandmas second husband, my real grandfather died when my dad was my age. Either way, he had always been there, always so sweet and loving.

He would be in bed by and up by 5 to play golf. My grandmother, however, wouldn't go to bed till 3 and wouldn't get up till 11. After everyone was up we would play cards and watch stupid T.V. shows, it was great. The ultimate vacation.I never thought anything about the constant hugging or tickling, that's what grandparents did right? Then something changed. I couldn't tell what it was at the time, but it seemed the hugs lasted longer and felt strange, the tickling, I don't know, just the look in his eyes was different.

Then it happened. It was halfway into my visit, shortly before Christmas. It had been raining that morning so he didn't go for his normal golf game. I had just finished with breakfast and was headed into the living room to watch t.v. when he came up behind me. he just looked at me with this look in his eyes that, for a 12 year old girl is hard to recognize, but the woman I am today knows it for what it was--pure, unadulterated, lust. Then he smiled. Trying to ease the discomfort of the situation, I guess, he just started to laugh and then tickled me. When I tried to shrug it off and walk away, he just grabbed me, pulled me back and did it more. I laughed, I've always been extremely ticklish, and told him to stop. But, he didn't. I tried to pull away and he wouldn't let go. Next thing I knew he had wrestled me onto the floor, and the whole time he just laughed.

That's when I felt it. He was hard. When I tried to push him away and tell him to stop, he lost his smile, he lost his laugh. All there was left was this cold hard glint in his eyes. I started to cry so to keep me from waking up my grandmother, he covered my mouth.

Let me explain something. He was good to my grandmother and took care of her. He was, as they say, independently wealthy.They were in their late 60's I guess, so starting over, would be near impossible for someone like my grandmother. And he made sure to remind me of that fact while he had my mouth covered. "If you wake her up or if she finds out, then she'll be on her own. Do you want to be the reason that she suffers? The reason she goes without? The cause of her heartbreak? Just be quiet and that won't happen. It'll be over before you know it."

He was right, in a way. It only lasted a few minutes physically. But, mentally and emotionally, I think it's still happening. Everything changed for me that moment. About 30 minutes after it was done I heard my grandmother stirring around, preparing for her day. All I could think was that there was no way I could look at her and not break down so I went to bed and said I was sick. I just lay there feeling dirty on the outside and dead on the inside.

I stayed in bed the rest of the day, I couldn't even eat. Come to find out, I was real lucky. I could have been pregnant. That next morning, when I got up, I had started my period for the first time. All I could think was that I wanted to forget it had ever happened. I wanted to move on. I was so sick to my stomach that I could barely move. My grandmother was worried so she came in to check on me. I explained about my period and how sick I felt and just asked her to call my parents to come get me. She figured it was all because of my period and I wasn't going to ruin that for her.

My parents arrived a few hours later and took me home. Even the safeness I normally felt with them and in my own room, with my stuff, didn't feel the same. However, all of it was. What wasn't, was me. And never would be again. I didn't say a word to anyone. I pretended that the only thing wrong was my period. And, low and behold, they bought it.

I got through Christmas. I acted normal, although I had become detached from any actual feelings. I celebrated my milestone thirteenth birthday while looking out from what had become a hollow shell. Maybe I should have gone into the theater because I was able to act just like a professional. I went back to school and made it look good but I wasn't the same. Not inside atleast. To a degree, I turned into an introvert.I didn't laugh as much, especially not for real. I escaped into myself, looking back, that probably wasn't the best place I could go. But at the time, I didn't care.

Summer break came and went, then ninth grade began. There were a few new faces and a lot of old. I had become so hidden inside myself that it took a lot to get me out. I met two people that started to actually break through the surface of stone that I had created and were able to bring out Me again. For the first time, in what seemed to me had been an eternity. But would that last? No.

Within a couple months my dad was told about a transfer. We were moving five hours away. A place I was unfamiliar with and people I didn't know. A change of scenery should have been good but all I could think about was what had happened just a few hours from where we were. I thought maybe it would get better given time, but it didn't. Emotionally, my spirit decayed and after being there four months I broke. I couldn't eat, or sleep, or think.

One day I just started crying, I felt so empty and alone inside. My mother, still not knowing what was wrong, just held me and told me how everything would be alright. It was that moment in which I broke down. I told her everything. What had happened, what I was told, and what it made me feel inside. She was shocked.

She blamed herself for not seeing that there was something wrong before. She took me to the hospital and they put me on something to calm me down. Between the medication and everything draining me emotionally, when we got home I lay down and passed out. I was exhausted.

I slept through the day and all night. When I woke up both my mom and dad were there talking. I felt so bad for them because they looked and acted like they felt so damn guilty for not seeing what was there in front of their eyes. We hugged and they told me how sorry they were that they couldn't take it back, but they would do anything possible to help me through it.

We ended up moving out of state because even therapy wasn't helping me get past it. They came to the conclusion that if we totally started over, started a new life, then maybe I could move on. To a degree it worked, I got therapy, my grandmother was finally told, and I started to make new friends. My grandmother filed for divorce and he agreed , out of court, to give her a nice settlement to help take care of her. No criminal charges were ever filed. I've never had closure(but it's coming).

One of the things that still twist me up inside is what I found out after talking to my aunts. I wasn't the first. At least one of my aunts, a few of their friends, and also to find out my own mother, had experienced what he wanted to share. They were older though. It was easier to fend him off I guess. But still to this day, I wonder.

If they had said something sooner would he have had the opportunity to do what he had done? Would I have ended up differently? Would I be whole again? I may never know, but still, I wonder.