Parents are supposed to be there for you. Every day, every second, every moment. They need to care for and love you. What happens if they choose just not to? Where does
that leave you? If that’s what life deals you, you have to run with it. The day it all began is bleeding in my mind. It can replay a million times over and over again I can
never change the outcome though. I was about six years old at the time. At six there is no knowing what is right and wrong, knowing and not knowing. There is things that all six year
olds do not and should not know about. What is that your wondering? Sex. If brought apon you, what do you do? Explore? Talk about it? Or just think of it as
normal? Well knowing nothing and trusting your parents makes you naturally think that it is normal. Rough housing and wrestling should be fun and childish for children. That night it
was just me, my sister Jamie, and my father all alone. In the living room restling and joking around. Nothing unusual and different than any other time except for one thing. I I kept
on falling on him and felt something in his pocket. I wanted to know what was in his pocket. How can you blame me for being a curious kid? I could have sworn it was his wallet, boy
was I wrong. I asked him to show me what it was or just tell me. He would not tell me, check, or see what was in there. So he whispers to me and said, “I’ll show you
later.” Think about it, what else could be in his pants? That day ended and began a new life for me. A life full of lies, hatred, horrible memories, and a broken heart.
I woke up that morning feeling scared, worried, and hopeful. I had no idea what was going to happen that day. I never thought about the possibilites of what could happen. I
just knew something had to be done. The night before, I talked to my friend Leah about it. We decided to do something. I got up and started my routine as normal. Took a shower,
I did my makup, hair, and got dressed. As I was in the shower I was wondering and thinking about what to say, how to say it and just the memories. I counted back to figure out how old I
was. I did the math about twenty times and couldn’t believe it started when I was six. Also how long it had lasted. I knew in my heart that I did not have to worry about that anymore
though because it was ending that day. He stormed out that morning because he was late. I never did say goodbye. My mom and I got into the car to go to school. The ride seemed
like the longest ever. All I was thinking was wheather or not to tell my mom that something was going down that day. We pulled up to the car line, I brushed it out of my mind, smiled,
said I love you, and left. I walked up to the second floor of school to where my homeroom was. Leah’s homeroom was also the same one. I got my books and sat down wondering where she
was. The time ticked and ticked. I never saw her until lunch time, and I was extremely relieved. Leah told me that we were going to get called down to the office later.
Later came. I walked to the office. Opened the door and found my guidance counselor and Leah. I sat down, knowing what actually was happening. We talked about it. She
got the basics. Told me to wait there. She and Leah left. The counselor came back in. So did my principal. They told me that they were sorry, it was the right thing to do,
and that they were proud of me. My principal told me that she called social services. The were not able to get down to my school since it was and hour away. I was going to be sent
home. Thoughts were racing through my mind. How are my parents going to find out? Were they taking me seriously? Was this a bad idea? I went back to my homeroom. I had
to pretend everything was okay. In all reality I couldn’t handle it. Leah was not there when I got back. I sat there in silence, thinking and worried. The speaker rang and it
was the counselor. She said for me to get my stuff come down, and that I was going home. On my was down to the office I ran into Leah. I gave her a hug told her I was going homes,
and thanked her for everything. I went down and they told me I was not going home. The social services was coming down to investigate. They took my story. In the middle of it I
heard my mom walk into the office wondering where I was. I got so nervous. Even more than I was before. So the police told me to move into another toom. It was connected to the
room I was just in. This was so that my mom did not see me and mess up the investigation. I could hear everything. My mom was crying. I never really experienced that emotion
from her before. I needed to leave. I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked to the bathroom and washed my hands and face. The officer waslked in and told me that my mom wanted to
see me. So I walked out and she gave me a big hug. I could tell she had so many questions. But now wasn’t the time for me to answer them.
I wondered for years, eight years infact. I wondered if it was my fault. If that first day, if I wasn’t so curious to know what it was that was in his pocket. Would all of this
actually happened? Was it my fault? It took me eight years to get away from it all. Eight years for me to feel strong enough and impowered enough to control the outcome I did
not need anyone else to tell me that it was not my fault. I needed myself to believe it and know it was not my control nor my fault. Its unfortunate for that to happen to me and my
family. But that one day full of courage started my whole new life forever. I now know that it is not my fault it is my fathers.
There is probably a million and one questions you may have for me. To me those answers do not matter anymore. The only question you need to know the answer to is: If I am okay,
and yes indeed I am perfect.
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