Where were YOU?

You let him dominate you from the beginning. Were you so weary of raising your firstborn alone, so afraid of her father and his family that you grabbed onto the first man who paid you the least bit of attention? After only a couple of months, you were pregnant again. Did you feel trapped? Had he shown his true colors by then, or were you still blinded by the shining armor he wore to seduce you into that false sense of security? Did you believe he would be everything you so desperately needed? So much so that you ignored all those red flags? There. HAD to be at least one red flag. There always is. You married him. Why? Because you didn't want people to say your child was a bastard? And after your son was born, when your husband proved to be useless as a father, no more than a source of financial stability, did you think it would be better if you gave him another child? You gave him me, his only biological daughter. Did it concern you, even a little, when he alone was in control of naming me? My name in itself should have been a clue. I am named for the object of his lust, a movie actress with a sexy look and sexy accent. From my first stirrings in your womb I was a piece of property that he owned, not a beloved and cherished daughter.

Did you put blinders on, stick your head in the sand, turn away from the sadistic pleasure he derived from standing there with his belt, snapping it like a whip and saying to two small girls "ok, who wants it first?" Did you notice the smile on his face, or the way he laughed as he whipped us?

Did you think about his motivation for building a house with your children's bedrooms so very far from your own? And YOU, with your sleeping pills that you had to have every night. Those pills that rendered you useless and unconscious, so that he could slip out of bed and walk that long hallway to my room almost every night from the time we moved in?

Did you know that I was 9 years old the first time I had the thought that I wanted to die?