Daddy asked the doctor why I wouldn't speak. He asked if I was autistic. He said he didn't want a stupid child, he didn't know I could hear him, this was at three
Daddy always said his little girl would grow up and be happy, four.
Daddy said his little girl would get whatever she needed, five.
Daddy said he had someone over and that I didn't need anything at that moment, to just go to sleep, six.
Daddy and I didn't talk much this year, he was always passed out surrounded by beer cans when I got home from school, seven.
Daddy saw my trophy from performing arts, he threw it at the ground claimed Arts never make it, eight.
Daddy didn't feed me after this year. I began to have to feed myself, I got thinner, and thinner. Operating was hard, especially during the summer. School days were gone, I didn't get school lunch. I fainted often, hypoglycemia is a curse, nine.
Daddy yelled at me in the yard, I began shaking rapidly not knowing why I couldn't control my body. My neighbor called an ambulance to rush me to the hospital. The doctors said it was a seizure, he said I was faking. He yanked the iv out of my skin and made me get into the car, ten.
Dad told me that someone stole my birthday money this year. He grabbed his whiskey bottle and poured another glass and motioned for me to go to my room. I was too young to notice that money was feeding his habit, eleven.
I came home to dad with a trophy from our school play, I won best portrayal. He snatched the trophy, as I was walking away it smashed on the door frame beside me, twelve.
Dad popped the pills for my anxiety, things got worse. It was as if he wasn't there. He tugged on my long sleeve shirt and asked how I could always wear these, that I must always be hot, he had no clue, thirteen.
Dad fell asleep, I took his alcohol and threw it at the side of the house so it would bust. I didn't want another night with this, he saw, the next day I woke up. I was on the floor with a concussion, fourteen.
Father told me I didn't need anything, I was old enough to get a job, I should get one and stop being so whiney, fifteen.
Jason found out his baby girl didn't feel like he was a girl, even though he scolded me for not being a boy when I was younger. The next morning before Class began . I borrowed my friends make-up to cover a bruise. I told her it was only my clumsiness. She bought it. Sixteen.
Jason isn't a part of my life anymore, but he still haunts me to this day.. All the years have done damage. Now a boy sits on the edge of his bed fighting off demons from the insanity which you gave him. No one needs to deal with this at the age of seventeen.