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Welcome to R.S. Confessions, where O.P. Robbs her own abuser. Our next Reddit post is from DeShafer.

When I was in grade school, I was molested by a next-door neighbor and family friend. He was around the age of some of my

older siblings. It happened a handful of times, and I'll carry it with me forever. Fast forward to me

being 19 and stripping at a local establishment. This guy comes in, and I immediately recognize him as my

abuser. I go over, reintroduce myself, but play dumb,

and said something like, oh my God, it's been forever, how are you? After a few minutes of catching up,

I asked if he wanted a table dance. Of course, the pervert didn't decline. We go to a dark corner.

He takes a seat, pays me, and lays his wallet on the table. The whole song,

I'm telling him how hot this is to be dancing for someone who knew me as an infant, and how upset

my older brothers would be if they knew, really feeding into his twisted ego. When the song

neared its end, I leaned over and said, I remember everything you did to me.

Then I took his wallet and emptied it. It was over $1,500. All the color drained from his face.

...