The dad that took

My story.

My dad would abuse me. Verbally and physically. Yeah it hurt. A lot. But when he touched me so softly is what hurt the worst. My dad had hit me and called me names. He was a manipulator and just an overall terrible person. He molested me. On black Friday in 2010 at 2:30 in the morning. Our cousin from florida,  Steve,

was in the basement with us. Passed out from alcohol and a cold. My brother was at my aunt Jamies house with her boyfriend about to go hunting. I went upstairs to the bathroom and called my mom crying telling her what happened. She called their house phone and my grandpa picked up. She told him what I told her, the truth. My grandma followed him into the kitchen where I was hiding. I immediately ran to her and grabbed her night gown, terrified! My dad was coming up the stairs. I felt my heart beating in my toes. I felt like I would explode into a million pieces like a ticking time bomb that he set off the first time he laid his hands on me. I had put up with so much my fuse was shrinking by the second. I fired back at him suddenly not scared anymore. I don't know where the burst of bravery came from but it was like an adrenaline shot that warmed my whole body. He turned and walked out. Just like that he was gone from my life forever. I don't think anybody actually knows the value of a second. People take time for granted and even wish it away. But in that moment I finally realized how fragile time is. One second I'm looking into my dad's face through tear filled eyes. The next, he's gone. I remember his expressionless face. He didn't look sad, or ashamed. He just turned around. My grandma had gotten me calmed down and even told me how her dad had touched her. My grandma was a coward. A little shadow to my grandpa. She followed him around like a lost puppy. My mom got there with Stevie. His car recorded the whole thing. Once I was in the car my grandpa had come out and told my mom that my dad had shot himself. I wasn't supposed to hear it but as soon as I did I couldn't unhear it no matter how much I wanted to. I was kicking and screaming like a prisoner trapped in a cage. I wanted out of the cage that locked me in with the truth and the reality of what had just happened. Everyone kept asking me if I was hurt. I didn't fully understand. I wasn't hurt physically.. Emotionally I was broken into teeny tiny puzzle pieces that are still being put together. We met the cop at the corner of the street. I felt like a tornado had just tore through all my insides. My head was pounding and I was nauseous. They let me put of the car and the cop gave me a blanket. Me and my mom sat on a tree stump and she just held me. I thought I wpuld feel safe but even being in my mother's arms left me shaking with fear. We got to the police station and had to fill out reports of what happened for hours and hours. I remember being scared to go to the bathroom alone. Even the cop scared me. I couldn't leave my mom's side all night. I never felt so small and helpless in my life. I felt like a baby who couldn't function. I wondered if I would always be this scared and this mentally frozen. My brain had stopped. All my thoughts and feelings were wrapped around that memory like a straight jacket, keeping it in place. Making sure I don't loose grip of it. That's the funny things with memories. The more you try to forget the harder they hole on. Now that it all feels like a dream I wonder how that pain felt. How it felt when the rest of the world stopped. I'm still in a cage. My dad locked me in a cage of truth and threw away the key. My family didn't help. I was only allowed in the funeral for 5 minutes.. In that 5 minutes I saw the bruise on my dad's face, had been ignored by my aunt Jamie who refused to look at me, got a one arm hug from my grandpa who looked pained to look at me, and finally my grandma. The only person who hugged me and told me I would be alright. But there was something terribly wrong. I remember when she hugged me I thought we would fall over. She didn't hug me to show love. She knew I was the only person who would truly understand. To me, that sucks the most. I feel used by her. I was just someone to hold her up when her legs felt weak. But what about mine? My body was already fragile. Didn't they know that I was going crazy. I would never be the same again. At least that's what I thought. I don't know when exactly but one moment I was lost. And then I was fine. That's when it started to feel like one big dream. Like a movie I once watched.. It didn't seem real anymore. I didn't like this feeling. I still dont. No matter how painful that night was. It was my last real memory of all of them and I wasn't ready to forget it. I needed that to feel real and to feel like my life made sense. I didn't want to be that girl that wondered about her dad. I wanted to know. I have so many questions left unanswered. Questions that will never be answered. Questions that only one person could answer.. One person who I'll never see again. I'm conflicted about that feeling. I want to see him but at the same time I feel safe knowing I never will. Moments. Every moment is different. Every moment has a decision. Seconds change just like your mind. My mind changes like the weather in St louis. Fast and all the time..