Skip Navigation
%>
Search Youth.SG

To the man who molested me

open-letter-banner-victim-and-molester

OpinionsSocial causes

People say that things will get easier over time, but it hasn't.

To the man who molested me,

Do you really not remember what happened that night? Because I do. I recall every single detail. Every single day. And it kills me.

Since you became aware that the police are after you, you've been begging for my forgiveness, offering me anything in the world just so I would drop charges. But you know what? My life has been a living hell because of you, and as much as I would like to, here's why I will never forgive you.

It was a chalet gathering for a group of us from work. I went to hang out with some of the girls to catch up on each other's lives.

Little did I know that that night would change my life forever.

I was asleep in one of the bedrooms when you walked into the room, drunk with a drink in your hand, and laid your hands on me.

I told you to stop, but you didn't.

open-letter-touch-butt-molest
I've never felt so hurt in my entire life.
POSED PHOTO: YOUTH.SG/ARIELE TAN

In fact, you came back to the room 10 minutes later and continued to torment me even though I cried out for you to stop.

I couldn't understand why this was happening to me. I thought you were a good guy with morals. You were my friend and I thought you would never hurt me.

I was haunted by the memory even days after the incident. I tried to erase it from my mind but nothing could take away the horrific thought of your hands under my shirt.

And so I decided to do the hardest thing I ever had to do; I confronted you.

I met you and you gave me a hug like everything was fine. Like nothing ever happened.

Sitting in front of you, I felt worthless, like a piece of meat. It didn't feel like you were my friend anymore. You were my perpetrator, and yet you asked me what was wrong, as if your hands were free from any form of crime. As if, you wanted me to pretend nothing ever happened.

open-letter-hands
Your hands are full of crime.
POSED PHOTO: YOUTH.SG/ARIELE TAN

I was shaking and crying and I couldn't even bare to look at your face. It took every single cell in my body to get the words "You molested me" out of my mouth, only to make me feel more disgusted with my own body.

Instead of apologising and providing me with the comfort I hoped for, you slut shamed me. You told me that I was asking for it and that you were not sorry.

"Look at the way you portray yourself," you said to me.

You said that I was asking for it when all I was doing was sleeping, and you walked in on me? How is that asking for it?

You say that you don't remember anything that happened but being intoxicated is never going to be an excuse for what you did to me.

And most of all, you aren't even sorry. Tell me, am I not worth your apology?

What upsets me the most is that you were my friend. You were like a brother to me. I trusted you so much.

But even with that said, the thought of letting you go free and giving you the chance to touch another girl tortured me.

If I let this go, and you did this to another girl, I would blame myself for it. And that’s the main reason why I decided to go to the police, so that you will never have the opportunity to do this to someone else.

But trust me, going to the police was not easy at all. I thought it all through. I still want to believe that you are a good person who made a mistake. Turning you in isn’t something that I will ever be able to fully accept, but I have to.

open-letter-mood-reflecting
Time was supposed to heal.
POSED PHOTO: YOUTH.SG/ARIELE TAN

People say that things will get easier over time, but it hasn't. 

It's been six months, and I still feel like I lost all my self-worth.

My life has been a mess and it's all because of you.

Every single day, I relive what you did to me and it sucks. It's like mental torture. It replays in my head when I’m alone and no matter what I do, the memory never disappears.

The thought turns into pain and the pain becomes physical.

I feel like I'm sinking into a place of sadness and I'm trying my best to stay afloat. I wish you could see the effort it takes for me to keep myself sane every other day.

There has not been a day when I can walk into a train or bus and think that I am safe from the hands of other men. I have questioned every other male figure in my life and asked myself if they will hurt me the way you did. I spend every other day crying, disgusted with myself because your dirty hands touched me.

No matter what you do and how you try to make it up to me, it will never be enough to take away the pain and hurt you have caused me.

And that's why I will never forgive you.

We have removed the name of the writer to protect her identity.