You told me you were a “ladies man” and at the time I didn’t realize that that comment wasn’t so innocent. You told me you loved me but was it love when you forced your tongue down the back of my throat. Was it love when I asked you if we could just sit because I mentally wasn’t okay and you turned my face towards you to force me to make out with you. Was it love when you looked at me and said “wow you’re good at that”. Was it love when you forcefully made out with me over and over despite my “no’s” and then grinded up against me. I soon found out you had assaulted a minor. You “penetrated” her and you almost got away with doing the same with me. You had asked me to wear a dress so you could simply get your hands on my ass. I now have symptoms of ptsd and every day I am haunted by you. I can’t get myself to report you or get a restraining order. I can’t talk about what happened. The thought of dating someone else makes me feel physically sick. There were countless nights where remembering you made me almost throw up. I ran from you but you are still here.