I don't even remember the time when it started but it was less than 7, now I'm 21.

The thing is... I do want to tell my parents but in some sort of way I still care for the one who made me pass trough hell and back again, and I know my parents reactions will be very bad to the point of physical abuse. I'm ashamed because I think on the reactions of the people important to me.

I know they make us stronger, is just a fucked up way.