One summer, when I was around 18, my family decided to take a trip to the water park. I was sitting between my uncle and my aunt. My cousin, who was only three or four at the time, was sitting between my legs - I was holding him as we went down the water slide.

The park was crowded, and I was staying close to my family anyway, but either my uncle slid too soon or maybe I was late to start sliding. I remember feeling lips on my shoulder, a graze down the side of my breast, and quick press on my back that, to this day, I wish was just a child standing behind me.

I held my cousin tight, and I slid down the water slide. At the bottom, a man stood facing us, hoping we would slide into him. I avoided him desperately.

I didn't get into the water again that day, choosing to remain in the shade with my grandfather and grandmother.

I've always loved the water, so they asked me why I didn't choose to go back onto the slide. I couldn't tell them that I was too scared to go back.