I was in high school, maybe 15 or 16. I had snuck out one night to see my boyfriend. He pressured and threatened me into letting him finger me. It felt gross and violating. I felt disgusting. Little did I know that was only the beginning.
I went to confess my sins to the bishop, like all good girls should. I felt too guilty to not take the sacrament in front of my parents, cuz they would know something was up. I was hoping the Bishop would understand my side, help me feel better, and maybe go easy on the no sacrament sentence I was about to receive.
When he asked what I needed to repent for, I shortly replied “petting.” Seems easy enough to assume right? No.
He pushed deeper. Asking more and more questions. How many fingers did he use? And how deep inside did he go? Did he move his hand fast or slow? Did you like it? Did you orgasm? (didn’t know what this meant) Were you breathing heavy?
I felt trapped. Terrified. Suffocated. My hands were sweaty and clammy, as they are right now as I type this. I was getting extremely upset. Why did he want to know all this?!
He then asked if during it, it was cold in the room? I sharply replied, “What does that have to do with anything?!” Too young to figure out what he was implying. He quickly stopped with the questions.
He told me I should be ashamed. That my father in heaven was very disappointed in me. That he thought I was a good child of God, but he must’ve been mistaken. That it’s going to take a lot of repenting to make up to my Father for what I’ve done. I was to not take the sacrament for six months, to pray asking for forgiveness, to read the scriptures for they would “cleanse my rotted soul”
Screw that Bishop. He’s a pervert. A pedophile. A sexual predator. Trying to get off on the idea of a young girl and her boyfriend
Screw that Bishop. He’s a pervert. A pedophile. A sexual predator. Trying to get off on the idea of a young girl and her boyfriend