**This is a work of fiction from the point of view of one of my poor, poor characters. I didn't know where to put it, so it is in flash fiction.**
"Don't look back...
You'll never know the way your words have haunted me..."
Evanescence, Snow White Queen.
I know you know what you did to me. You weren't drunk, there was no excuse for you to treat me, your only daughter, the way you did. You didn't hurt me, not unless I spoke back, but emotionally and psychologically, you wounded me. You have damaged me beyond repair and I can't even fight you into submission and apologize because you make the rules. You are the father and you will be the head of the house, I will listen to you and not the other way around. If I fight against you, you will punish me.
I remember the time I told you to let go, all those years ago. How you told me that after dinner, and after my brother went to his friend's... I'd get what was coming, and I'd regret ever trying to control you. How, as I tried to turn away from you, you grabbed my wrist like you were in the car with a reckless driver and needed something to grip- I had bruises that looked like fingers there for the next week. How I cried that night after you'd finished the deed.
How I thought, and feared, and worried for the next month afterward that I was pregnant because you didn't believe in using condoms to protect me when you were trying to punish me.
How, since then, I haven't tried to tell you to do or not do anything. I don't want punishment. I don't want to be around you. I don't want to be in this house, this is not home. I've tried everything from clubs after school to staying at friend's houses and it just didn't work, you always had something waiting when I got back. Usually, it was worse than it would have been had I just been at home.
So I ran away and you and your sick mind won't ever find me.
Signed, Missy.
"Don't look back...
You'll never know the way your words have haunted me..."
Evanescence, Snow White Queen.
I know you know what you did to me. You weren't drunk, there was no excuse for you to treat me, your only daughter, the way you did. You didn't hurt me, not unless I spoke back, but emotionally and psychologically, you wounded me. You have damaged me beyond repair and I can't even fight you into submission and apologize because you make the rules. You are the father and you will be the head of the house, I will listen to you and not the other way around. If I fight against you, you will punish me.
I remember the time I told you to let go, all those years ago. How you told me that after dinner, and after my brother went to his friend's... I'd get what was coming, and I'd regret ever trying to control you. How, as I tried to turn away from you, you grabbed my wrist like you were in the car with a reckless driver and needed something to grip- I had bruises that looked like fingers there for the next week. How I cried that night after you'd finished the deed.
How I thought, and feared, and worried for the next month afterward that I was pregnant because you didn't believe in using condoms to protect me when you were trying to punish me.
How, since then, I haven't tried to tell you to do or not do anything. I don't want punishment. I don't want to be around you. I don't want to be in this house, this is not home. I've tried everything from clubs after school to staying at friend's houses and it just didn't work, you always had something waiting when I got back. Usually, it was worse than it would have been had I just been at home.
So I ran away and you and your sick mind won't ever find me.
Signed, Missy.
