When I was 16, I was sure I was in love with my boyfriend. Evenings were spent cuddling watching tv. As often happens the line kept being crossed, just a little at a time and I soon found myself in the bishops office. He listened as I uncomfortably explained that I had gone “too far.” The compassion was not what I had expected and he pulled out a pencil and paper and started taking notes and asking detailed questions. Questions that were more personal than I would share with anyone else. He didn’t just want what happened, but how it happened. Where was I, exactly what did he touch, what did I touch, where was my mouth, how naked was I, how naked was he, did our bodies touch, how did it feel. He knew I’d never tell my parents about the interview, and he was right. Still to this day this is the first I’ve ever spoken of it. I am sad I never said anything because I know because of my fear other youth were subjected to the same line of questioning.