April 2, 2011
Dear Grandpa,
It really feels like forever since I've seen you. I really miss you.. I know everyone else does too.
Things with the family haven't gotten any better in two years and I have given up hope on things every working out. I apologize for not keeping up with this whole thing, but I just found this book and began going through it. It inspired me to write in it, at least once more. I might as well catch you up on things.
Truth is, I found this book mid-January and considered writing in it, but I never did. I kept telling myself I'd do it tomorrow, and then the next day. But I guess is we're being fair here, I had good reason. My life has gone to hell since the start of the school year. I've basically become the person you never wanted me to be, and I am so sorry.
At the beginning of the year I was off to a half way decent start. And then I started talking to the wrong people and got into the wrong things. No one would have ever guessed though, I kept my personal life well hidden. You'd be so disappointed in me Grandpa. I started dating a man that was much older than me. He wasn't even a good man. Physically fit, yes. But he got me into some terrible stuff. If I told you about all the different drugs I took and how many times I slept with him, you'd disown me. I know you would've wanted better for me and I am so sorry.
After a few months of seeing that guy, he broke my heart and didn't even care. I found out he had been cheating on me the whole time from his roommate. He was an abusive man too, Grandpa. Not physically, though he was certainly capable of it, but emotionally. He always told me I wasn't good enough and could always be better, that I needed to lose some weight, take better care of myself, not be such a.. whore. I don't know what I did to deserve that. I was loyal and faithful to him fully. He also told me that if I started getting into shape that he would, "Have a hard time letting me go." I knew he was a jerk, but I was blind still.
After I was dumped, I realized what a mess my life had become and everything went into a downward spiral.
One Friday night in January, I went over to my friend's house. I wanted to spend time with her because she was moving away soon. I didn't know her parents weren't home, or else I wouldn't have lied to my father about going over there. When I got there, she informed me that she was throwing herself a 'going away party' as she called it. The thought made me sick to my stomach. I had gone off the rails, but not that much. You'd be proud of me though, Grandpa. I didn't touch a single ounce of alcohol that night. Yet somehow I still felt queasy and not up to being social what-so-ever. So as a solution I went downstairs to the basement to pass out. I liked the basement because it was very dark and quiet, plus no one was down there. I found it comforting.
I don't know what time it was, but I was woken up by something unfathomable happening. It's really messed me up, Grandpa, though I know it's no excuse for anything, as you'd say. I can still feel his hand around my throat, and his hand pressed over my mouth so I couldn't scream. I tried anyway though, and every time I did, he'd choke me more. Eventually I gave up. I stopped fighting. I was afraid he'd strangle me. I can still feel the spots on my cheeks where my hot tears pooled up against his clammy hand.
But all of that is my fault really. I was the one that stayed at her house after she told me she was going to throw a party. I was the one that lied to my father about where I was. I was to blame, I know, I don't even have to hear you say it. I know. And I am sorry, again.
A few weeks after the whole thing happened, my mom caught me ditching school. She asked me what was wrong and I finally told her how I was being neglected over at my father's house (Did I mention they got divorced?). She started crying and told me that I sounded depressed. I hated the fact that she said that. I was okay, I still am! There is nothing wrong with me, there never is.
Even after my numerous protests, she told me that on Monday she was taking me to the doctor to be put on anti-depressants. This alone outraged me. But when I got to the doctor that Monday, they gave me a test. I scored a 24 out of 27, which apparently translates to very depressed. The doctor told me that I should go to the hospital to be seen. My mother agreed and took me straight away.
At the hospital they gave me the same test and decided I was unfit to go home, in fear that I would attempt suicide. I knew that I wouldn't, such a thing would make you angry. They admitted me into the Psych. Ward and let me say goodbye to my mom. I cried for days because I was left there all alone. I didn't understand how someone could just throw me into a prison all by myself and against my will. Part of me still doesn't understand. Just thinking about the matter makes me want to cry.
In the middle of the week my dad came to visit me in the hospital. He had been informed on why I had been in there and I could tell he was hurt, to say the least. When he first sat down in my room he asked where I was going to go after I got out. Ashamed, I told him my mom's. This brought tears to his eyes and he started begging me not to. He made many promises, saying "I promise I'll be a better father!" and, "I'll do better, I promise. Please don't go.." But after all that, I told him I was still going to Mom's. He got really quiet for awhile and then emotionlessly said, "You realize I'm taking away the truck, don't you?" I told him that I understood and I knew he would do that anyway, and that my choice still stood. With that he stood up, looked me in the eye and said, "Why are you doing this to me? What did I do so wrong?" And then walked out, with tears in his eyes. I haven't spoken to him since. You'd be so disappointed. I'm sorry.
I was in the hospital for a little more than a week. When I got home, a lot changed, and yet nothing changed at all. I went to live with my mother, but they acted like nothing happened. Which was totally fine by me.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago, and I'm sitting in my bedroom crying. My mother comes in and asks what's wrong. I tell her. I tell her about everything. About the party. She just got really quiet. I explained to her that I had no idea who he was, I couldn't even see his face. She assured me that it wasn't my fault. The next day she bought me pregnancy tests. Both came back positive. Same day, we went in for a blood draw, extremely positive.
I've decided to keep the child, despite the situation of how it came to be. I can't blame the kid for something it had nothing to do with. I won't murder an innocent baby because my person is emotionally damaged. You'd be so proud, but you'd also be very angry, that I let this happen. I'm so sorry.
I really am, Grandpa. I am so sorry.
Love,
Skarlett
