This is a silent cry for help, a help I need but am afraid to ask for.

My name is Pat and I am in a messy tangle.

Night time holds horrors for me, unlike the ghoulish movie-type horror. This is a domestic horror that triggers no screams or bloodshed, yet it is as chilling, in its subtle creepy execution as any horror.

My aunty’s husband is sexually assaulting me. Or should I say I am allowing my aunt’s husband to sexually assault me. Now before you draw any conclusions, please hear my story.

I am a teenage girl who was rescued from the claws of hunger and certain suffering by my aunt and her husband, Uncle James. After my parents died last year in an accident, my Aunty and her husband took me and my little brother, Eric into their custody, since there were no other family members willing to take responsibility for us. As newly orphaned kids, we had no one else and she opened her home to us. They became our only remaining support in the world and we were grateful.

The horror started one fateful night with a touch. I woke up with a start. Had I imagined it? I sat up quickly and the soft sway of the curtains caught my eyes. If I had imagined it, could I have also imagined the swiftly retreating back of the disappearing shadow I just saw sliding through the curtains? The curtains billowed softly again, as if to...

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