When I was in middle school, I was beaten and sexually humiliated in front of my classmates while we were waiting in the band room for our performance. Some of the kids at the time had the presence of mind to get a teacher and alerted them to what had happened but, either by ignorance or fear, the teacher gave the two boys a slap on the wrist and it wasn't dealt with by school administrators. She covered it up. I never brought it up to my parents because, well, I didn't really comprehend what had happened to me in terms of sexual assault. It was only years later did I understand.
My freshman year of high school, an older girl targeted and harassed me consistently on a daily basis. She would make a big display of grabbing my crotch in front of other students. This went on for about three months until she was expelled. This was in the 90's and the school district hadn't even begun to think about the anti-bullying programs that became mandatory after Columbine.
My first adult sexual encounter ended in rape. I was drunk and initiated contact with her but, by the end, I was covered in bruises. If I had done those things to her, I would have spent time in jail. I stayed in my room for three days and I only left to go to work. I didn't eat. I didn't talk to anyone, I didn't cry. I wrote about it once and it helped me sort out some very angry feelings but it's in the past now. I chose to forgive her even though I know she was sober and in charge of her actions. I refuse to be angry.
And I'm not angry about the things that happened to me in school, either. I know they affected me in ways that are still hard to quantify - I have trust issues. I have intimacy issues. I stopped trusting adults in middle school because they were only interested in their own careers.
I've never talked about this with my parents because... I don't know why.
Don't bother telling me you're sorry, friends. It's not your apology to make. :)