I did, from my father when I was 18, before he died. My husband and I had went to visit him around Christmas time that year and my husband wanted to take a picture of the two of us together. My dad sat at one end of the couch and I, at the other end. My husband told us to move closer, to act as though we hadn't seen each other in many years (which we truly hadn't). He moved closer to me, because I was not going to move closer to him. It was in the house in which he raped me and I could see the bed and it was triggering me majorly. He put his arms around my shoulder and then broke down and hugged me, he kept whispering to me, "I'm so sorry baby. I'm so sorry." I didn't believe him. It didn't help at all. If he was truly sorry he would not have done the things he did to me to begin with.