I Was Molested In A StoreThis is something I've been wanting to get off my chest for years now.
I was about 10 or 11 when this happened, so I don't remember it very clearly. My mother and I were visiting my aunt and uncle for about two weeks, just on vacation. They both lived in India, and thought it would be great if my mother and I could take some souvenirs to show the rest of my family back at home.
She took us to the city mall, where there was a small store with two sections in it: the kids section, and the adults section. In the kids section were tons of toys, and my aunt and mother sent us to the kids section, so the two of them could shop happily. My four year old cousin was with me, and had stopped to look at something in the front of the shop, where everyone in the mall could easily see him. I remember telling him that I would be back, after looking at some of the movie posters they had.
This is where I believe I made a mistake. I should have stayed in the front of the store, where everyone could have seen me, with my cousin.
I was in a plain white and black dress at that time, looking at posters. My breasts had just begun developing, and I was not aware that they were poking through my dress. I was just 10 years old, I didn't even know about things like sex back then. I wasn't wearing training bras until after the incident.
I remember a man walking behind me, he was the store clerk. He asked me if I liked anything that I could see, and I, thinking he was talking about the posters, smiled and nodded in response. I didn't know he had a double meaning in his words. I remember him suddenly grabbing my shoulders and turning me, so that he was behind me, and I was directly in front of the posters, my nose at the wall. I did not know what was going on, and I don't remember what I was thinking at that time. I just remember what had happened, and it scarred me.
He had slowly pushed his fingers through the top of my dress, until they were touching my breasts. I was scared, not moving. I knew what good touches and bad touches were by then, and I know that I knew what he was doing was bad. We were in the back of the store, where no one could see us.
I don't remember details, but I remember his slowly squeezing and pinching my breasts, and telling me to keep on staring at the posters. I was frozen, not sure of what I should do. I think he had brought his hands in the lower pubic area, I don't remember much of it though. He had rubbed and squeezed me for what felt like forever, told me never to tell anyone else, and then left suddenly.
I remember almost crying after that, because the way he touched me wasn't exactly gentle. It was kind of harsh, and agressive. He may or may not have something pointing out on his crotch - I don't remember.
After my cousin and I went back, I stayed quiet and unresponsive.
I told my mom about this, after a few days. She comforted me and told me it wasn't my fault, and even cried herself. She felt terrible for leaving me alone in that part of the store, and got angry at the store clerk, wanting to get him in jail for child abuse. Unfortunately, I had told her after we had returned to our home, so nothing was done to stop him from doing this to other girls, we were on the other side of the world.
She couldn't relate to me, though, she had never been touched inappropriately. She could only comfort me and distract me. I never told anyone else after that.
I used to wonder, when I was fourteen and fifteen, what it would feel like if I had taken that opportunity and actually enjoyed the man touching me. Then I used to curse myself for thinking that way.
The man was a pervert and a ********* - nothing more.
There have been more experiences like this for me, all happening when I was a pre-teen and teen. I'm very sorry if anyone else has been through this. This simple experience had caused me to be gaurded and to avoid men, including my father - a very decent man who loved me very much. He and I rarely talk now, all because of incidents like these.
I'm 22 now, and I'm hoping that I can forget this experience. It's not something I want to remember.