Before I tell my story, I kindly ask that you respect my wish to remain anonymous. I am sharing one of the most painful experiences of my life, and for personal reasons, I am not ready to reveal my identity. I hope you can understand.

People often say the world is full of kind and compassionate souls. I believe that. But I have also learned that sometimes the deepest pain comes from the people who should protect us the most.

My story began in November 2020.

I was only 15 years old.

My grandmother was living with my uncle and was living with a disability. My mother and my aunts took turns caring for her. One evening, my mother asked if I could stay with my grandmother for just one night after her caregiver left, because she couldn't be there herself.

I said yes.

I wish I never had.

That night changed my life forever.

I cannot describe what happened because the memories are still too painful, but someone I should have been able to trust took away my sense of safety and my childhood. The emotional scars have never left me.

I never told my parents. The person who hurt me is my mother's brother. I couldn't bear the thought of breaking her heart, so I carried the pain alone. For more than five years, I have lived with this secret.

I'm now 23 years old, and the trauma still follows me every day. Some wounds don't disappear just because time passes. They stay with you, affecting your sleep, your peace, your confidence, and your ability to enjoy life.

I finally realized that I need professional help. I tried to seek therapy, but I simply cannot afford it. Asking my parents for money isn't something I feel able to do because it would inevitably lead to questions I'm not ready to answer.

Writing these words is one of the hardest things I have ever done. I never imagined I would have to ask strangers for help, but here I am, hoping that someone will understand.

If you are able to donate, your support will help me access the therapy I desperately need so I can begin healing from years of silent suffering. Every contribution, no matter how small, brings me one step closer to recovery.

If you cannot donate, I completely understand. A kind message, a prayer, or simply sharing my story would mean more than you know.

Only those who have been burned truly understand the pain of the fire.

Thank you for reading my story, for believing me, and for giving me hope.

Lene