entry 2: dirt

It was so bad today. I got called to the principal’s office during 4^th period English. I knew exactly what was going to happen… it has been the same thing for almost 3 years: “Grief counseling.” Well that is what Gerald calls it, it’s what he tells the attendance secretary. I guess in a way it is grief counseling, FOR HIM. Not for me. For me its just grief. For me its just dirt. And that’s exactly how I feel: like dirt. Will I ever be able to see sex as a normal human activity, as an expression of love? Doubtful.

Gerald does not hurt me anymore, it’s just sex now… or whatever else he wants me to do to him. When it first started he had to hurt me… he forced me to pleasure him. He would tie me up, or hit me, or hold me down… he would strip my clothes off, ripping them to shreds if he had to. Then I finally gave in. I’m not volunteering myself; I’m only protecting myself from broken bones and horrible bruises. I know from experience that if something breaks I simply won’t be take to the hospital, it’s not an option. And when you go to school and walk around town with broken bones and bruises all over, people get suspicious real fast. There are only so many alibis one can come up with—but the lies are easy to see through. When my teachers and friends began to worry about me, I began to comply with Gerald’s forcefulness. Sure, I still bruise and break every once in a while, but dance is a good enough excuse of the occasional broken nose… Complying with Gerald just makes life easier. I have always known that there is no way to stop the sex, but there is a way to stop the abuse. I figure that I got rid of one pain by complying, and NY will help me get rid of the other pain.

I returned to school after Gerald was content with my “performance.” After school I hopped into my black Audi TT Coupe—just another pathetic “sorry for having sex with my own daughter to make the pain of my dead wife go away” gift. Sometimes I truly feel like a prostitute, trapped in my house with nowhere to go. I headed to the dance studio: 2 hours of practice, 3 hours of work. Then home. Upon arriving I found a brand new Louie sitting on the counter with a note attached.

Sorry. Figured you could use this for your schoolbooks.

Hope it’s big enough. –dad.

Gross. I hate it when he buys me things. I don’t know what he is trying to do. Bribe me to keep quiet? Thank me for my services? Trying to make our relationship seem normal? I wish he knew that the only reason I stay here is for his own good. I loved my dad before he changed. I hope that, if everything goes as planned, when I move to New York he will go back to normal, maybe even get over the whole thing with my mom and be able to focus on his new family: Janice and Jakey.

t-minus 3 days to graduation, 4 to NY. Got my cap and gown today. Green. I look like a giant booger in it.

entry 1. it was what it was

Just a week to go. Seven measly days left in this hellhole. Then, graduation. I can do this, I can grin and bear it. I can keep up this charade for just seven more days, because eight days from now I’ll be on my way to New York… big city, lots of people to get lost in. Ever since mom died I have been saving money, working so hard for my dream: to get out of town ASAP! It will be so nice when I’m finally gone, when I can no longer be blamed for every single thing that goes wrong in this house, when my dad (I now refer to him as Gerald, due to developed dissociation) can’t touch me and when my stepmom can’t hate me… It seems like forever ago that I made my plans to move, but it was just 4 years ago. I remember the day perfectly: Gerald had just gotten back from his shrink… that was the first time it happened. I remember him saying something about how Dr. Kraig mentioned a “coping method” for his loss. I thought he was talking about prescription drugs or doing something to keep his mind off mom’s murder. After all, that is what Dr. Kraig’s advice was to me: “Get involved in something to keep your mind busy. Something you love almost as much as you loved your mother.” That’s when I got serious about dancing. Most parents in this situation just throw their whole lives into work, but not my dad… NOOOO. Gerald had to be more risky with his coping methods. After weeks of cooking classes, basketball leagues, multiple failed attempts at dating, and many suicide missions involving some kind of extreme sport Gerald took to porn! (I hate even writing that word.) I only know this because we used to share a computer until he bought me my own so that he could hide his disgraceful acts from me! When porn wasn’t enough he began to drink a lot. And when drinking alone wasn’t enough, well…. I guess he began to take out all his anger, hurt and pain on me. Rape. Incest. Disgust. This is the only place I can talk about what happens when my father and I are alone, no one else knows. I don’t know what would happen if I told anyone—they would never believe me. Thanks cookie-cutter lifestyle, for making everything seem perfect. I am on the nation’s #1 high school dance team, I dress immaculately, my grades are perfect, I drive the nicest car in school… anything I desire I get… all thanks to Gerald’s guilt. Of course I don’t want any of it. All I want is my mom back. When my mom was here my dad was not like this—second to being the best dad and husband in the world he was Gerald Denver, owner and founder of Organicz Wines, a company he started on his own right out of high school. Mom and Dad were high school sweethearts, totally meant to be together forever. And that is exactly the problem, forever ended too soon for Gerald. Now my happy family is long gone, and all I can think about is New York. 8 more days of pain… a lifetime to start over.