Created By

flutytute

Rate this Story

Embed

   When I was younger, I used to wish that my dad would turn into a super hero the way girls craved Once Upon A Time stories.  With him, I knew that I would never have a happy ending, and that I could never be daddy's little princess.  
   Oh diary, I never truly believed that he was a monster, until I found him late at night sniffing something on the kitchen floor....

   Gasping for air, I woke up in the middle of the night.  It was pitch black in my room, making me believe that the horrors of my dream had come to life.   Running as fast as my little three-year old body could carry me, I ran into the hall way ready to burst into my parents room, but a light on in the kitchen caught my eye.
   Hearing sounds of daddy mumbling to himself, I quickly tread down the stairs, to the opening of the kitchen.  From there, I saw him crouched on the floor like a doggy with his head down, snorting like a pig.  I started to go forward quietly but instead, I tripped over my too long night gown and squecked.  Upon hearing that sound, dad whirled around, making me back up into the wall absolutely horrified.
   Daddy had become a complete and utter monster!  His eyes were unfocused and glowing bright red just like a vampires after its feeding.  Stuck to his nose was this white powdery stuff, that he had been snorting up it!  Sweat glistened down his face and arms, and he looked like a crazy mad-man!
   I cried out when I saw him, but daddy cut me off by mumbling "tis all right darling', daddy s'ok."  That just made everything more terrifying for me, so I ran up the stairs and into my room, where I took the chance of facing my nightmare horrors, but nothing could have been worse then the daddy-monster I had seen downstairs.

   I welcome all my nightmares now, compared to the monster I saw my father become, they are not at all scary!  I just don't understand how dad could have been condoned to such a weakness as to be turned into a monster.
          -Mellie 13 yrs.

   Looking up from the diary entry, my eyes glistened with yet to be fallen tears.  Even after all these years, I still couldn't bear the thought of seeing my father sniffing what I know now was cocaine on the kitchen floor. 
   I got up off the couch in a trance-like state, went to my bedroom and dressed, and then left for my mothers house in my car.  Regardless of how lousy I was feeling, I needed to clear out all of her things.
   When I got to my mothers house, I worked the hardest I possibly could, so I could shut out the memories that were now drizzling back into me.  I had blocked all of them out, but they seemed to keep bombarding me.  Snatches of George and I hiding behind doors, and in closets to be away from my dad, flitted through my mind.  I saw my mom getting beaten, but the next day denying that it had ever taken place.  The one memory that stood out most though, was the memory of myself talking to the court apppointed counselor about the sexual abuse that took place.
   Slowly, I closed my eyes, letting the memory take a hold of me...

   The counselor slipped the glasses on and looked directly at me, "Now, I know this is going to be hard, but you have to tell me exactly what he did to you."
   On a sob, I cried,"I was only six!  I was defenseless!  It's not fair!  I was only six and the so-called father of mine raped me!