Justice? | Report

“Mom, he’s a bad guy… I don’t like him.”
“Mommmm, he’s bad,” said the little girl.
“Why? He’s your uncle. He loves you,” the mother replied.
“Mommm, he does weird things. I feel bad. He’s not good.”
“What!? What happened, sweetie?” Her voice shook with fear.
“He touched me badly… on my cheeks, chest, thighs. It felt awful, Mom. I said stop, but he said, ‘Good girls don’t speak much.’” She cried. “Am I bad? Did I do wrong?”
The mother froze. Darkness shadowed her eyes as she stared at her innocent girl, now bearing a pain no child should know.
In her mind:
Why my child? My flower… why her? I tried to keep her smiling, but I failed to protect you. I couldn’t save you from this lifelong scar. I’m sorry… so sorry, my love… forgive me. God, why her?
She screamed , clutching her daughter.
“You trusted me, trusted family… Shame on the world. What a waste. No real justice awaits, even if he dies. I’m sorry… you’re not safe at home. I’m so sorry…”

Some mothers act.
Some stay silent.
Some silence the child.
Some disbelieve her.
Some whisper, “Shut up. Forget it.”
Some girls endure it again and again.
Some lose their smile forever.
Some stop believing in love.
Some fear their own family.
Many are raped. Many killed for speaking. Many tortured.
Many abusers escape. Few face true justice.
One story mirrors thousands of women’s unending pain.
No justice exists only injustice.
I’m afraid.
I’m not safe.
Every day one question haunts me:
What if the next victim is me?