The nurses gave me ice and crackers to pass the time. I’d spent my elementary school years in hospital waiting rooms. He wasn’t able to hold a steady job due to his sickle cell anemia. My mother had long hours at the phone company, often working overtime in the evenings and on Saturdays. Our two-bedroom house in northwest Pasadena had become too small, with only a pink and burgundy bathroom separating us. When my father asked me to forgive him, I said, “I will try, Daddy.” He eventually told me he was sorry, b ut his apology was too late. Then, an hour later, he confessed the truth. I thought now that she had learned the truth, she'd make my father leave.Īt home he denied that he’d raped me, asking my mother how she could believe such a thing. My mother didn’t say anything else on the 20-minute trip to our house. Ava reminded me that I had only graduated eighth grade, and although I felt I was grown up, I wasn’t. I only mentioned the incident to my mom because my best friend’s sister, Ava, said I should. She hugged me and wanted to know why I’d waited seven days to say anything. That horrible phase of my life, when all I had was pain and suffering has made me the woman of steel that I am today.“Daddy said we needed to take more pictures for my photo shoot in your bedroom last week and then he got on top of me,” I told my mother on the bus ride home from the mall, breaking into tears. I hope they suffer immensely at the hands of their conscience, just like my father's best friend. I do whatever is humanly possible to keep them comfortable.
I wake up everyday and I take care of my parents. My insensitive parents knew everything but they kept quiet. The doctor was shocked and asked my parents what had happened. The anus and rectum had also been damaged. In the hospital I came to know that my vagina was torn and the uterus had been severely hurt. My mother saw the pool of blood and called an ambulance. I couldn't understand what was happening to me. One day I felt so sick, I could not get out of my bed.
He force-fed me pills and then he'd hurt me again. When he saw how my parents had no faith in me, he became even more confident with his act. So I did that, I begged him after what he did to me. They refused to believe me and instead made me hold his legs and beg for forgiveness. I said that he hurt me and so I had beaten him away. When my parents came back home they asked me where he was. When I shouted out loud, he hit him with a piece of wood. Still praying that, "God, let him not hurt me!" One day he tried to push a beer bottle in me. I kept going to him, knowing what'll happen to me in his house. My mom obviously didn't give a second thought to what I said. The lessons soon proceeded to kissing and fingering in all the wrong places. I still remember his filthy face when he got pleasure out of touching and pinching me. No awards for guessing what the lessons were about! It all started with dirty touches and pinches. I was young, naive, and dumb so I went for those lessons with absolute faith in humanity. He was good in studies so he convinced my parents to send me for private tuitions to him. It was then when he found the window of opportunity to step into our lives. I was 12 when my parents were going through a tough financial crisis.