A few years ago my family situation was just an utter travesty. It was a year after I had came out so to speak and a year after I had been threatened with getting kicked out of my house for not being straight. I had assumed that my parents would finally let it go. But it all came to a head the summer after I graduated from High School. My parents marriage was falling to pieces and so they embarked on a grand plan of trying to work it out. What better way to fix their marriage than by going on a trip to Nashville, Tennessee.
When we first arrived it was alright. Basically it was just this super boring town. Whatever. The point is that my dad got drunk, really drunk. That night he came into the hotel room where my sister and I were talking and he basically tackled me. He's not a small man by any means so it was just this immense pressure on my chest. I couldn't move. I couldn't breath. All that I could do was slowly choke as the air was squeezed out of me. No one came to help me. Not my sister. Not my mother. No one was there for me. I couldn't be there for myself because there was no way that I could push someone more than twice my size off of me, especially with no air inside my lungs. What makes matters worse is that the entire time he kept chanting the same phrase, over and over again. The horrid lullaby that almost sent me to a permanent sleep, "How do you like having guys on top of you now?"
That phrase continues to haunts me to this day. It conjures up emotions that I can't ever truly get passed. It was all that I could hear as I started to black out from oxygen deprivation. You never truly know how frightened you can be until you see the darkness form around your eyes.
But that was me. I was a helpless victim. I had no savior that night. When my father got off of me by some miracle I ran away. I hid in the stairwell of the hotel complex. I cried. I felt so alone. I had nobody there beside me.
