One day, my pastor spoke on supporting the broken. This message struck my core. Is this not what the church was meant for? I summoned all the courage left in my tiny body to tell my pastor what I had been subjected to by my perpetrators. He asked me if I screamed or if I have told anyone since. I took a deep breath and simply said no. He firmly and loudly told me that I must have wanted it, pronouncing his judgment against me.