Letters To You

eight

Dear You,

I think I am ready to embrace vulnerability and tell you all my feelings. Be totally open and say my full story. I think I am finally ready to do that. I hope you are ready to hear.

Beginnings are always my favorite. Well that's a lie, but telling the beginning of my story is always my favorite. It starts out with so much hope and promise. I love it. Well let's begin.

I remember my little 4 year old or 5 year old self, I can't remember which, resting on your shoulder as you played video games. I think it was Simpsons racing. It was always my favorite and you played it when I was around. So I was watching you and the thought popped into my mind of 'I want this man to be my daddy. He is amazing and wonderful. Maybe he could be the one to stay forever. To love mommy forever.'.

I worked up all my courage and asked you. I remember saying: Will you please be my daddy? and you turned around and your eyes widened and you got a smile on your face and you said: Maybe.

You said maybe. That maybe to my 4 or 5 year old little heart was awful. I was so hurt that you didn't just say yes, but I was wise for my age and I knew you had to think it over so I smiled and said okay.

skip a few years. How about the famous age 8 where my life turned awful. Ya that sounds good.

You know that year was so awful its all just a blur. I just get bits and pieces of it.

I remember how you use to yell at me for not watching the kids, when it was your job. How it was my fault when the babies had a diaper that needed changed and it hadn't gotten changed in awhile. How I was always the mess up and the screw up. How I couldn't do anything right. How I should've been being a better sister and took better care of them as you slept on the couch and watch your sport shows. Ya that basically sums it up.

Skip to year.... 11? ya I think 11 will suffice.

Same as every other year, it just kept getting worse as I grew up. The letter I sent you about fear was actually a vague message of this part of my letter. So anyways the point is its really hard to describe what it's like to live in constant fear for your life and not only your life, but for your family's too.

You always worry about them and you always watch over them even if you don't want to, you do because you have that much fear.

Then when it comes to night and everyone has gone to sleep, then your fear goes from a 100 to 1,000. You worry about every noise you hear, wondering if that noise is what you fear most. You worry about what will happen in your sleep and if you will even wake up tomorrow. You pray that you will be protected and so will your family.

One night I got so scared I remember sneaking into the kitchen and pretending I was getting a class of water. I even ran the water and made the cup clink and everything, but I didn't come out for a drink I came out for a knife. I snuck it and hid it under the waistband of my pajama pants. I walked into my room again and hid it under my pillow. I feel asleep holding it in my hand, under the pillow and crying.

I don't remember how many nights I did that, but I know it was a lot. More then I could count. Aren't you suppose to feel safe in your own house? I didn't think you were suppose to have to sleep with a knife every night so you felt a little safe.

That's how I ended up falling asleep every night as I mumbled to myself that I was alright. That I was safe. That I wouldn't get hurt and neither would my family.

Sick that a little 11 year old girl had to worry about that, right? Or would you disagree and blow it off like it was nothing, just like you did to everything else.

I think that's enough for one day. We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow.

-Me.