“My uncle once asked me, ‘Are you a virgin?’ when I was already 27 years old. From that moment, I started to be afraid of him. And a few days later, when he took me to a hotel outside the city, he leaned close to my ear by the pool and whispered, ‘After the pool, come up to my room…’”

My uncle once asked me, ‘Are you a virgin?’ when I was already 27 years old. From that moment, I started to be afraid of him. And a few days later, when he took me to a hotel outside the city, he leaned close to my ear by the pool and whispered, ‘After the pool, come up to my room…’”😨🫤

 

 

I was already twenty-seven years old, yet that evening was the first time I truly felt afraid of my uncle.

 

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His name was Richard. He was my father’s older brother, and ever since I was a child, he had been one of the people everyone in our family trusted.

 

 

When I was little, he brought me birthday presents, came to my school performances, and always told me:

 

“If you ever need anything, just call me.”

 

After my father died, those words became even more important to me.

 

But over the past year, Richard had changed.

He started asking strange questions.

 

 

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“Did you keep anything from your mother’s old belongings?”

 

Or:

 

“Have you ever wondered why your father never liked talking about his younger years?”

 

Usually, I just laughed and changed the subject.

 

But then, one day, he suddenly asked me something that made me freeze.

 

“Emily, are you a virgin?”

 

 

For a few seconds, I honestly thought I had misheard him.

 

“What?”

 

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Richard looked away.

 

“I’m asking whether you’ve ever had a serious relationship.”

 

I stared at him.

 

“What does that have to do with you?”

 

He immediately changed the subject.

 

But I couldn’t forget the question.

 

 

From that day on, every time he called me, I felt uneasy.

 

Then, a few days later, Richard called me on Saturday morning.

 

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“Emily, are you free today?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“Come with me. I booked a place outside the city. There’s a pool there too. We could relax for a while.”

I hesitated.

 

We had never gone somewhere like that alone before.

 

After my father died, Richard often tried to get me out of the house because he knew how withdrawn I had become.

 

So eventually, I agreed.

 

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