Dear father,

I truly don’t know what you’ve done in my childhood but I know what it sounds like you’ve done. Mother has told me of the late night visits she caught you making in my room, the stuttered out excuses, the locked doors, the always wanting me alone, and the getting pissed when you can’t have me alone. I don’t know why I can’t remember all those years of my life but I can make a pretty good guess; what I do know is the anxiety I always got when I was older and you’d touch me and when we were alone, the hate and disgust I felt for you that everyone chalked up to teenage emotions, and the overall destine I still have for you to this day. I pray one day I have the courage to ask you about this but I know I’ll never get the truth. I just hope I never get those memories and those 3 years of my childhood stay buried deep