Dear... Family
I don't know what to say. I don't know why I'm writing. I think maybe I just need closure. I'll never get it from you, so I have to make my own.
Why did it happen for so long? Why did you let it keep happening once you found out? Why didn't anyone do anything? You always told me you didn't want to pick favorites, but every time you pretended it wasn't happening, that's what you did.
I still can't sleep some nights because I'm expecting something that stopped years ago. I moved away, I ran and hid, and I'm still afraid he'll be there when I sleep. I'm afraid of basements and the color green. I'm afraid of the smell of Axe body spray. I'm afraid of every man who towers over me.
Mostly I'm afraid that if I ever saw you again and told you this you'd react the same as you did then. I'm afraid you'd call me crazy. I'm afraid you would blame me for everything.
What is there to blame me for? I was a kid. I didn't know. I couldn't stop it. I did all I could for myself. I don't remember all of it, but maybe it's better that way. I don't know if I could handle everything that happened. I want you to handle everything that happened. Isn't that what a family is for?