The Protectors

September 16, 2012
By SilentlyLiving BRONZE, Elkhorn, Nebraska
SilentlyLiving BRONZE, Elkhorn, Nebraska
1 article 0 photos 2 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Flying is learning to throw yourself at the ground and miss" -Douglas Adams

Fathers. They are supposed to be the ones who protect you, their “Baby Girls”, but what happens when they are the ones who hurt you the worst? That’s my story.
My names Madeline, I’m 15, 16 in 3 months and 11 days, that’s going to be the day I tell my story. I’m writing it now just to get it straight. I guess it’d be nice if I stared at the beginning.
Age 5:

“Time to get up” my dad sings into my ear one early morning.
Groaning I flip onto my side and stare at my dad, his big brown eyes so deep I could fall into them, long dark hair falls to his shoulders. He’s tall too, I mean he has to be, he’s my protector. Laying there on the big twin bed, on the top of the bunk bed I share with my little sister, I search around my bed with my tiny hands looking for my blankie, and I start my morning routine.

“Daddy how do they make crayons?” I ask, avoiding getting up.

“Well…” he says as he lifts up my shirt, rubbing my belly.

“Hehe that tickles” I say, I love tummy rubs.
He continues with his story of how they make crayons, rainbows of melting wax poured into molds.

“Can I invent a color?” I ask

“Of course, you can do whatever you want,” He replies with a smile. “as soon as you get up!”

“But I’m tired” I whine
His hands start wandering past my belly button, I don’t say anything, I just wait. He’s still talking about the crayons and how they get their names, but what he doesn’t know it that I’m not paying any attention. I notice he’s trying not to make a big deal about it when he slides his hand into my undies. I wonder why but don’t say anything. He pulls my pants to my ankles and looks at me.

“When you where little you liked when I kissed you, can I kiss you?”
I shrug my shoulders, I can’t say no, can I? I don’t ever remember him doing this. But i trust him.
Laying there, waiting for him to leave is how I spent the next 10 years of my life, quietly, silently hoping my door will stay shut.
Age 7:

“ MADELINE! GET OUT HERE NOW!” My father screams

“hold on!” I yell back, he’s just going to make me stand at the wall so im just going to take my time getting dressed.

Hold on I think,

“I was putting on my shirt!” I say as im walking out
He looks at me.

“why did you have to put on a shirt?”
Why would you ask me that?

“come here.” He grabs my arm and sits me on his lap. “You don’t need to hide your body with clothes all the time, we’re your family.” He says as he takes off my shirt.

“ O.K.” I say while avoiding his eyes.

Age 10:

“Momma’s at the store, you need to take a shower.” He says to me

I look at him and say nothing
NO NO NO NO NO! Mommy come home now! I scream silently to myself.
When he says take a shower he means with him. I know what he does is wrong but how am I supposed to tell people? They’ll all think it’s my fault anyway. We get in the shower and he starts touching me like usual, it makes me uncomfterable but I don’t let him know. I stand there like a stone, expressionless. He hears the garage door opening and quickly gets out of the shower leaving me there to wash up.
Age 14:

I finally have my own room! But my beds just a mattress on the floor, and that’s too easy to get too. Over the summer I’ve learned to lock my door every night so he can’t get in, but when I forget he comes in and touches me, I act as if I’m asleep but I think he knows I’m faking. Lately he touches me with his thing.

I don’t know how I’m going to live much longer with this, he takes it too far, basically he rapes me every other morning, and then he acts like nothing happens all day. I don’t trust anyone. My last (first too) boyfriend broke up with me because he felt like I was too distant. No s***? I don’t want anyone else that is supposed to protect me hurting me. I’d give up if it ever happened again, but I couldn’t tell him. He would of thought I was nasty!

I want to tell someone but I don’t know who, or how. Plus theres no way my mom can support 5 kids. My big brothers leaving next year, so that will be less to support for her, I have to tell before I move out, who knows what he’d do to my baby sister whos now 11. Oh God. If he ever touches her I will kill him, and myself for letting it happen.

I… I just walked into my sisters room. Oh God, he was in there, just as I never hoped would happen. She’s so small, she looked so scared. I ran into my room and now im writing this. A couple of moths ago I started to… to cut myself, so that’s what im doing now. How can I sit here knowing what hes doing to my baby sitster in the room next to mine and not punish myself.
“One little cut
One little twist
Another red line runs down my wrist
A crystal clear tear
Falling in fear
I know this feeling in my gut

This is so sudden
I slash at the healing scars
Leaving behind bloody stars
Seams bursting,
Muscles hurting
I’m coming undone

Knots falling apart
It makes my heart stop
Waiting for the chop
With one last breath
I wish for death
Can’t life just restart?”

Help me.

The author's comments:
This is completely fictional.

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