In the play was the first time i had seen a rape acted out live while i was old enough to remember, and it was surprisingly hard to watch. I usually don't mind any sort of gore or otherwise considered "disturbing" images, and this was not the most violent, or for that matter graphic rape scene i have seen including movies. Rape is an impossible subject in my family, but you would never know it. One of my close cousins was raped well before i was born, but since she did not press charges or tell anyone for years, it is technically not set in stone. She does not know that i know, and for that matter nobody but my mother knows that i know. Even though i have never spoken with anyone about it and it has never become a crisis in my life, it is still something that i take more seriously than most people i know. Also, again something that only a few people know, a member of my very immediate family was sexually assaulted, and i use that term broadly, by another immediate family member. The offender does not know that i am aware of the situation, and although the victim has forgiven the offender, i cannot. The victim doesn't want me to confront the offender, and it has made it impossible for me to have a normal relationship with the offender. I don't think that telling the offender would help our relationship, but my disgust in the person has, over the years, become more and more obvious as my anger brews inside me, and the offender doesn't know why. Just like in Notes from the Underground, i somehow feel bad for the underground man after he rapes Liza and somehow feel bad for the offender that i don't let the offender know why i can't stand to be in his/her presence. The offender is much closer to my father, and the offender has expressed my relationship issues with the offender to my father. This makes my dad force me to be around the offender at every chance he gets, which he does not realize makes me inable to think straight. I get more nautious around the offender than i did on the bus, and i have been somehow able to manage not to fall apart in anyone presence to this day. I only asked the victim once if i could confront the offender or for that matter, my father, so that in the very least he knows where my disrespect for the offender comes from. The victim and i ended up talking on the phone for hours, both of us procrastinating our hours of work. The conversation let me relax for a little while, but watching Notes from the Underground and reading it both restirred the hatred and disgust that i felt before my soothing conversation. It is impossible for me to articulate my feelings towards the offender, and even worse in my opinion is the fact that the offender has been forgiven by what feels like everyone but myself, and i often have been told that the issue is not my issue and that i should let go of it and, essentially, forget it ever happened. The person who told me has said that they wished they never told me, but unlike those who say ignorance is bliss, after i found out i hated myself for not knowing sooner. I was told years after the event had concluded between the victim and the offender, including after the victim forgave the offender. It is entirely my situation when my family member commits what i consider to be the most vile, disgusting, i can't even begin to explain how angry i get. It has become the unforgivable sin, which i must pretend to live without every day. I can remember the moment i found out, and not a day has gone by in which i havent thought about the issue, tried to forget the issue, tried to destroy the issue in my mind. I wish i could take the victim's forgiveness and give it onto myself every day. I can't breathe when i think of the offender. I, out of respect for my family and their wishes, refrain from killing the offender. If it weren't for the victim's wishes, i would take the offender to court. I would reveal to the world the sick and unforgivable actions the offender has made and let him/her rot in solitude for the rest of their worthless life. The day that i found out what happened, i lost a family member. That day, any feelings of that person were vanished from my memory. He/She became completely worthless to me, dead to me. Their life is the only life i value less than another in the entire world. That day, i understood the death penalty. I understood how hatred can completely overwhelm someone. Maybe it is because i have never loved, but on that day i was overcome with hatred unlike any other feeling i have ever had. I never thought anyone could be all bad until I knew this. I never believed that there could be an unforgivable sin until I knew about this. And the fact that I had lived under a roof that the offender had been under, the fact that I have known him/her for my entire life, that I have eaten his/her food, laughed with him/her, made eye contact with him/her makes me want to kill myself. And the fact that as I was writing this, I thought that feeling such an immense and pure hatred could make my feeling of joy more outstanding makes me hate myself and the offender. No matter what I do, no matter what happens to the offender and the victim, the offender has ruined my life. He/She has taken away from me time that I can never get back. Any joy that the offender had brought to me was sickening to me. The joy that I felt because of the offender became guilt, became disgust, became revulsion and made me feel loathsome towards myself for allowing any of the offender’s life to bring me anything but sickness.