Dear Darling Child,
Everything was fine before you were eleven. We were fine. Lovable, innocent, happy as can be.
I suppose it was not meant to be.
Happiness can never truly last, can it? I wish I could believe it can.
But trauma... Trauma pierces our joy like knives pierce through petals. Shredding our every hope and dream.
4 years since it began and we got it to stop, good for us... But while he doesn't touch us anymore, the memories consume us.
This trauma isn't like others. We can't say it was terrifying. We consented. We didn't know better, but we still did. And doesn't that mean we asked for it?
Can an 11 year old truly ask to be molested when she doesn't know what that little 3 letter s-word is?
We should've told mommy the first time it happened. But what if he hurt us for telling? What if he hurt mommy for knowing?
4 years since it began and here we are, drowning in self-hatred. We should've said something.
Is it too late to tell mom of the horrendous sins father has commited? Am I just as guilty for not saying anything and letting it happen, even when I didn't know better?
Would she even believe me, her daughter, when I tell her what her husband has done?
Would she even do something?
No, it's better not to risk it and keep my mouth shut. Suffer in silence than to ruin my life and(or) everyone else's.
Darling child, please come back. I search and search for you, but I cannot find you.
Where did you go with your innocence and forgetfulness? Where did you go with your blunt nature and trust? Where did you go with your courage and love? Darling child, where did you go?
I thought I needed a boy to be strong but I see I was wrong. He makes me string but what I need most is you, the old me, who was strong and brave before father came around.
Where are you Darling Child?
I search but cannot find you...