I used to think it was my fault. That I had done something wrong, maybe I needed to look at the way that I talked to you. Friends, family, police officers, and other adults around me told me maybe I was mistaken, was I sure? No one wanted you to be the culprit. Funny, young, and hip M-----; cool, edgy, and smart Mr. M-----. Just out of teaching school, great new ideas, you had everything up your sleeve.

It wasn't my fault; it wasn't anyone's fault except for yours. I thought when you told me tutoring would be good for me you really cared. When you ruffled my hair, patted me on the back, you were just using me. It started with just a little physical contact, no big deal. Then it blew out of proportion. Double tutoring session you said. So I guess I didn't notice when you took your jacket off, closed the door, looked out the windows, closed the blinds. It was too late and I said I had to go cause my mom would be worried.

I should've screamed when you locked the door and stood in front of me. You told me everything would be okay before you did it, everything wasn't okay. I wasn't sure what had happened at first. I'd learned about it in school but weren't you only supposed to do it after you got married? With someone you loved? You didn't love me'did you? That night Mom wasn't too worried, just happy I was home. I didn't tell anyone and didn't say anything. Yet I knew it was wrong. It wasn't right, it couldn't be right. It was too horrible to be right.

Days passed before I regained any part of myself. Before I realized it was you, not me, who was wrong. I told Mom'but it was as if you had brainwashed her. With your charm, your lack of experience, enthusiasm, and ambition; it was as if she didn't even believe me anymore. Mom told me to get the thought out of my head and stop joking, she did nothing. So I went to Dad. You brainwashed him with the same things, so much so they no longer believed me.

So I told the police wondering, hoping they would believe me and take me seriously. After hours of questions they did. They heard me, they believed me, and they listened. Mom and Dad told me they were sorry but it wasn't enough. I didn't feel safe. They asked me where I felt safest and I told them way from my parents and school. So much for a support system, huh? So teacher, I'm writing this letter to you in jail. Not because I'm sorry you went there, quite glad in fact, but because I want you to know the pain you've put me and those around me through. Maybe you'll feel sorry for what you did.
Sincerely
The Student You Raped