- Politics and Social Issues»
- Social Issues
The things I couldn’t say then….
I am a child of six years who needs the guidance of a parent as well as affection. Look at me closely. I am not belonging to you; I am on loan from God. I have a soul and I have come here to save you.
I am willing to trust in the beginning but if I am abused in any way it will take a whole lifetime to undo the damage.
You have the power to give me a good start in life, or ruin my life.
I am watching a movie on TV for the first time in my life I am able to follow the conversation. I can’t wait to see what happens. Why are you calling to me from the bedroom with a smile on your face?
Why are you not at work like everyone else, like mama is? Perhaps at last someone is showing me affection in this world. Come in here, you say, come in here, lay down.
This is my parent and in my small mind I am asking why? I am an obedient child and also a curious child. I am still trusting that all is well and that someday my parents will love me.
I am afraid to disobey as I’ve seen you hit my mother and I’ve received a belt whipping from you where you forced me to lie, that I’d done something wrong I didn’t do. I had to lie so you’d stop hitting me. Lying hurt as bad as the belt, but it was 6 of one, 1/2 dozen of the other.
You’ve asked me to lay on the bed. I can’t fathom why and I want to finish watching my enjoyable movie. Now I’ll never get to see the ending. I think maybe you want to examine me or play a little game. I am amazed you even notice me. Nobody does.
I lay upon the bed and you begin to unfasten your belt. I am not afraid yet but deeply perplexed. You remove my panties for some reason. Now you are on top of me, pushing something into me that is attached to your body. I look at it as I’ve never seen something like that..ever. I do not know what sex is.
You are breathing heavy and I don’t know why. You just keep pushing that thing into me, to get it further in it seems, it will not go all the way in and I am glad of that.
You stop and say “does it hurt?” I sense you don’t want to tear me and I answer honestly, no, it doesn’t hurt, but what are you doing it for? You don’t answer. After you’re finished with your business I am as perplexed as I was in the beginning and you tell me to go to the bathroom and pee.
I go to pee and feel a burning sensation. I run back to you to inform you of this burning sensation. It appears I have been hurt after all. I thought you’d want to know, so that you don’t try it again.
I feel what you’ve done is wrong but I cannot put it into words. I am only a little child and have no intellect yet.
I tell you it hurts and I point to my vagina. You make a snort sound and turn and walk away and I get the idea you don’t really care. I return to the TV but the movie is no longer on, and I don’t really care. I begin to think that you are not my friend. I begin to think of ways to avoid you and I do. I don’t come straight home from school anymore.
Now I hide in the tall pepper trees alongside the road, and I await mother’s return at night. I am bored, scared and alone and nobody cares where I am or asked me questions.
Finally I decide to tell mother what happened. She is cooking dinner at the stove after a long day at work. I never speak to mother and she has never invited me to. I sense she does not like me. Nonetheless I have no one else to tell.
Mama I say, daddy did something to me here, and I point to my vagina. Mother looks confused and she is not mean to me right now, but I know I’m getting a brush off as usual.
Many years later, when mother and I have become on speaking terms, she volunteers some information about her husband as a way to put a bandaid on a lonely, abused and broken heart wound. She informs me her husband came from the deep south where what he did was considered acceptable and normal, but not openly discussed in public. As an adult I nod my head but in my mind I’m thinking, yes, and if they think it is right to do this to their children, they will spend a great deal of time in the hell of their own making for giving way to lust.
When I am ten you have moved out and found a much younger woman than mother to have sex with. You asked to have me come live with the two of you in your happy little home. You think I am your daughter, but after many years I discovered I am not your daughter, for mother had given into lust herself by having an affair while you were at war across the sea and I was the child of that union. She did not even love the man she told me later. She betrayed you by making you think I was your flesh and blood. I come to live with you and CC. She leaves you in a huff one day and then it is just you and I, and I am starting to worry. Once more, you force yourself upon me and I feel a stone wall arise between my feelings and my thoughts. I am in a deep dark hole at the very bottom of a well, there is no rescue for me. I am feeling very, very dirty, and very, very ugly and very angry.
With these feelings, it is likely I will never fall in love and be cherished by a gentleman. My life is ruined. I am ten years old and my life is ruined is how I felt then.
I still do not have much of an intellect. I still do not know what sex is and I still understand what you did was wrong. I tried to push you off me but couldn’t. After you were done that time, I turned my face to the wall and just lay there in hell, thinking how much I hated what just happened and how angry I was to even be alive and have to suffer this abuse.
All of a sudden I heard you crying great sobs of regret. The sobs burst from your lungs just as they would from a small boy who lost his best friend.
In a sense, you had lost your best friend, for we could never be friends now, as you had crossed the boundary between what it means to be a good father and to protect the daughter from wrong being done to her, so that she can fall in love and have a family of her own, and yes, so she can learn to enjoy sex when it’s time for that to happen. You told me you were sorry. I understood that you were. A sort of truce arises. You have started to conquer your sexual urges. I am sent back home, wherever that is, and the next time I see you I am 13 and I begin to save you from the last vestiges of your lust. It takes about 3 years to do, and I do it with God on my side.
I simply forgive you and understand you. Nobody has ever forgiven you your sins. You are amazed and I said nothing. I just looked at you with understanding and you grew a couple of centuries.
You became a real man. I never saw you as a father figure though. I saw you as a younger soul come here to gain control over your sexual urges. I was your angel. I am still your angel although our paths will most likely not cross again, for the mission is accomplished.
And now I know who I am and I am beautiful; I came from God and shall return to God and God will say, well done my child, well done.