It took me ages to write it, and it’s not the only such incident in my life. Yet we were a normal family from a normal neighborhood, but there is nothing normal in how normal the abuse is. I would like to wrote more about it, about other such events, but I find it so hard. It takes a lot to write openly about this, it’s discomforting for people to read and worse, they bring the memories back, the memories than can be hard to stand for the one how has to live with them.

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