thisplaceisdeath

My mom and I were sitting on the couch watching tv and goofing off on the internet.

Then she looked at me.

"Sam, I did something."

"What? What is bad?"

"Yes."

"What did you do?" I asked jokingly. "Mom, you gotta tell me," I say with a smile on my face.

"I"m sorry I didn't protect you."

The smile dropped from my lips. I just stared.

"What did you read?" I said forcibly. "What. Did you read?"

"I'm sorry Bill molested you. Why didn't you tell me?"

And now she knows. My darkest secret.

"Why didn't you ever tell anyone?"

"I told Danny. Remember the night that I left late?"

"Why didn't you tell me or anyone before Danny?"

"I couldn't. I was protecting you, Momma."

"That was the only thing that I ever wanted to keep you from."

My mom was molested as a child. And now she knows that I was.

And oh my God, does my fuckign heart hurt. She should never have known. Never.

I just can't seem to cry.

The Scribblings Mom Read:

"April 23, 2004 - 3:00am

Today is Danny's birthday.

Twenty-four years old. Twenty-four.

It's like an infection. Day after day it eats away of what's left of me. It finds what's good and just fuckign destroys it.

And it just won't go away.

I can't sleep. Again. Like all those other nights before.

Why didn't I ever tell anyone? Why does it have to be such a secret?

But, of course, I ask a question that I already know the answer to. My momma. I need to protect her because no one else will.

It's raining. A steady fall. The clock chimes three and keeps ticking. The squeek of a pen. What a way to spend a night.

I'm down on the couch trying to keep ahold of the last shred of sanity that I still have while he sleep soundly in my bed. Twenty-four.

Bill was twenty-four when he first started molesting me. God, how I fucking hate him.

I don't really mean it of course. Christ, I still refer to him as Daddy Bill. After all that had happened, I was loyal to him. I never told a soul.

Why did he do that to me? Why? What did he get out of it? A cheap thrill that my mother couldn't satisfy?

What would she do it she what the man that she slept next to each night for eight years did her to daughter?

How could she not have known? The doctors told her I was being molested. And of course. She thought it was my dad.

My poor dad.

My mom and dad met at a gas station. My momma was on her way to a Navy Recruiting Station that day that she stopped at K&K to get some gas. She didn't go into the Navy, because that night she waked into Sam's Diner and there was my dad sitting at the counter. They went to a movie that night. And some time after that, I was born.

Like any of that matters now. I keep harping on as if I do that things will change. But they won't and I'm really okay with that. I think.

I wouldn't ever have it not happen. I am who I am because of it. Because of everything that I experienced throughout my life.

How could he do that to a five year old?

The suffocation.

His large, sweaty body holding your own small, frail body down.
Giant hands, never yielding, raking down your helpless body.
He smiles. You squirm.

The pain.
Blood and cum all over your thighs. Throbbing.
You won't be sleeping tonight as you try to hide what happened.
Every night. And you can't fight it.

You want it. And that's the worst fucking part. You. Like it.

Powerless. You can't stop it. You don't want to. The pain borders on pleasure. Even for a five year old.

They know but won't stop it. How could he?"

***

I feel filthy.