It’s whatever now, really. It was the first time I’d ever been to Bangladesh, where my family are all from. This guy was supposed to be like a brother to me. Instead, he would shove his hand down my pants. It continued the next time I visited, when I was 14 or so. That time, he’d gone on about how he was in love with me. I don’t know if I have the energy to get into the details tonight… I’d written about it in high school – I’ll probably throw that up here sooner or later. It’s not the experience that bothers me, now. I’ve gotten over it. Over the years, I’d been going over how I’d tell my parents, in my head. I figured they would want to know if something like this went on, especially considering how much trust they have in him. Eventually, I’d decided that I’d keep it to myself until I’d actually be going to Bangladesh. I was planning a trip at the end of this year, if I could afford it. I didn’t see the point in telling them now – what would they do? Sound super fucking angry in a phone call? I wanted to see the guy get his ass kicked. I wanted to be the one kicking his ass. No, I’d wait until we were all within ass-kicking distance.
Change in plan – my parents are going to Bangladesh next week. So, I guess I won’t be going anytime in the next few years. Do I tell them? Do I want to send them off to live with this piece of shit for a month?
The worst part of this is how fucking much my mom loves him. He might as well have been her child. I’m sitting in the kitchen with her the other night… out of nowhere, she starts going on about how “nothing he does could ever make [her] hate him.” No matter how much he fucks his life up, she’ll find a way to look past it and care for him like her own son. How do I drop a bomb like this on her? Will she still love him, once she knows that he’s tried to shove his tongue down her daughter’s throat on multiple occasions? That he’d taken advantage of a ten year old girl? I can’t put a burden like that on my mother.
No matter what he does, she’ll always love him.