it started when i was eight years old. my brother was my first. in the beginning i was just curious and i think he was too but then it started to get further than just show and tell. we, well he was touching and rubbing, squeezing and ..... finally intercourse when i was ten. after about a year of us doing it, i believe he finally realized what we were doing and he stopped just like that. i was relieved. he never hurt me or treated me bad, never threatened me, it just happened but i knew it was wrong and i was ashamed of myself. he too was ashamed of himself i could tell. for quite a while he became very cold to me, i think he was sufferering from extreme guilt. i got a break for a year or so then it began again only this time it was not my brother but my uncle and then my cousin, then another cousin, then another, then my pastor,....... it went on like this for seven years..

i sat with my heart racing, my teeth clenched as i listened to this young lady sitting across from me in a chair recounting the horrible events of her childhood... growing up without a father in the ghetto of a third world country. the saddest thing about her story is that it is far from being the worst i have heard sitting in this chair. as a matter of fact it is among the better stories.. soon i have an interview with a fifteen year old who is pregnant with her second child for her father.