Living After Abuse
w w w . l i v i n g a f t e r a b u s e . c o m                  w w w . l i v i n g a f t e r a b u s e . c o m                 w w w . l i v i n g a f t e r a b u s e . c o m
To Dad and Mom,

I remember the mulberry tree.  I remember the fig  tree.  I  remember  the  pool.  I  remember
the Park.  I remember riding my big  wheel.  I  remember Denise  and  the  two  sisters, Mary
and Maxine.  I remember running so fast I thought I could fly.

But I couldn't run fast enough to escape what was  happening  to  me.  I  couldn't  get  away
from when you would leave Amy and I with the Andrews.  I  couldn't  protect  her.   I  couldn't
protect me.  He would separate us - send one of us with his wife, while he would  molest  the
other; in the basement, in his garage workshop.  I remember more  of  those  places  than  I
remember my own home.

I don't know exactly what he did to Amy.  She said once that he tried to make  her touch him.
But I  remember what  he  did to me.  I  remember  his  wet  sloppy  kisses as he tried to force  
his tongue into my mouth.   I remember the way his hands shook as he  shoved  them  down  
my pants or rubbed my breasts.  I remember the  way my whole  body  still  shook for  a long  
time after.  I  remember  feeling  dirty.  I feel  dirty  still.  And  it  didn't  stop  when  we  moved  
from there.  He did it again when we went to the shore; he did it  again when  he came to  the
farm for my graduation.

I hate.  I hate me.  I hate him.  I have more  rage  than  you  can  conceive  of.  I  wish I  could
take a dagger and thrust it into  him, turn it  for  good measure, and  pull  it out.  Maybe  again
and again.  He deserves to burn in hell for eternity.

Sometimes I  try  to  forgive.  Sometimes I  think  I  am  able,  with  God's  help.  But  always  it
returns to this anger and hatred.

He stole my childhood.  No, the past cannot be  changed.  But nor can I  seem  to  get  rid  of
this rage.I cannot rationally blame you because I know you did not know, yet  th e child  within
me SCREAMS you should have known.

      Holly
Holly's  Letter
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