“My uncle once asked me, ‘Are you a virgin?’ when I was already 27 years old. From that moment, I started to be afraid of him. And a few days later, when he took me to a hotel outside the city, he leaned close to my ear by the pool and whispered, ‘After the pool, come up to my room…’”
I was already twenty-seven years old, yet that evening was the first time I truly felt afraid of my uncle.
His name was Richard. He was my father’s older brother, and ever since I was a child, he had been one of the people everyone in our family trusted.
When I was little, he brought me birthday presents, came to my school performances, and always told me:
“If you ever need anything, just call me.”
After my father died, those words became even more important to me.
But over the past year, Richard had changed.
