When walls begin to crumble

D K,
I won’t preface this with “Dear” because there’s absolutely nothing dear about you or your memory. Do you remember? Because I do. Do you remember the 19 year old girl you were “dating” when you drove to that little house where she babysat so you could say goodbye before she left for college again and take a few pictures? Because I do. Do you remember how you stayed, and stayed, and stayed? Because I do. Do you remember how you waited until I was alone downstairs doing the laundry before your real intentions showed? Do you remember how you pulled me down on your lap and started to tickle me? Do you remember how your breathing became shallow and ragged as your “affection” turned ugly? Do you remember feeling my body tense up in sheer terror as I felt you start pulling my shirt off and how I froze as I felt something poking me through your pants? Because I do. Or were you too caught up in your fantasy and your own wants to notice any of that? Do you remember how those little boys came running down the stairs to play games and saved me from you without even knowing it? Do you remember how I bolted away from you the second you let go? Because I do. Do you remember how I stayed as far away from you for the rest of the day, the day where you STILL stayed and wouldn’t leave? Because I do, every painful, fearful moment. Do you remember how you excused your behavior and problem with sex by telling me how you slept with prostitutes in Germany and how you treated them so gently as if that somehow made ANY OF THIS OK?!? Because I do. Do you remember how I never spoke to you of my own free will after that day? Do you remember calling me in college and threatening me with your new attack dog you bought?? Because I sure as hell do. Were you trying to make me talk to you again, fall in love with you…I don’t know.. But whatever it was was evil. Do you remember how I faked medical problems at college all semester because I had no way to deal with what I lived with? Do you remember how my heart stopped the moment I opened that envelope with pictures of us from that fateful day? Of course not because you weren’t there and you wouldn’t have cared anyway. Do you remember that Christmas when you got the youth pastor to stage an intervention to clear the air between us even though you knew he had no idea what really went on that day? Do you remember how I stared at you, both of us knowing I wouldn’t tell because I would get blamed for all of it? Because I do. I wonder… Do you still remember? Did you tell your wife before you married her? Do you think about someone doing the same thing to YOUR daughter someday? Do you remember the day I stopped hiding from it? Because I do… Because it’s today.

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