Story about. my rapist

What’s your worst fear? Is it spiders, or clowns or maybe even the dark? Mine is a man or should I say coward named Phil. He was dating my birth mother when I was ages 2 to 4 years old. I would love to sit this person down and talk about how he affected my life since I was 3 years old.

The dinner would be held in a moderately busy restaurant, like Latrobe’s Sharkeys. Weekend would be best during dinner rush. For my protection and his also, the more people around the better. I would find him online or my mother who talks to him still can tell me so I could invite him to dinner. Finding him and asking him wouldn’t be hard, but the thought of sitting across from him and talking is terrifying.

As I would start talking to Phil I would act as if he’s any other human being on the planet, but the fire burning inside me would be eating me alive. Phil doesn’t deserve to see how I am, he doesn’t have the right to even speak to me or of me. But with this impending discussion would take weight of my chest. Looking at Phil will make me panic and my anxiety skyrocket. I might become so upset I scream at him instead of talking. But he deserves it, he deserves to have gone to prison, to be 6 feet under. Who molests a 3 year old for over a year and gets away with it? Phil does. I was 4 when I told my dad what he does because I didn’t understand it, I was a toddler I was young and innocent. Phil was suppose to be my babysitter, probably my mom’s 3rd husband, my protector, he was never one of those.

I know this person is not a man, he is a thing, a coward, and an insult to mankind. He was 24 years old and I was 3 years old. He’s now married and last Easter he got back into contact with my mother. He has visited my mom and they were talking about getting back together, my mom is on board with it. I know he was never found guilty, I wasn’t capable of testifying and they couldn’t use what I said because I was so young at the time. I remember every detail of the rape kit, my step mom holding me down because I was screaming and crying and the court house. I went to a specialized therapist with my dad afterwards. I remember it all even at my young age. I remember my so called “mom” took Phil’s side it the court, and happily my dad won full custody of me at the age of 4.

I would ask Phil if he remembered me, what he did, if he thinks about me or what he did and if he even regrets it. I want to know if he does. One thing I would love to learn from him is if he can get through his day, without the thoughts and memories going through his sick mind. If he ever gets hit with flashbacks so real he blacks out. Because I still do. I would ask if he ever got professional help instead of just the needles and drugs. I want to know these things so I know he’s suffering because he deserves to, I can’t go through a day without thinking about him especially on the lonely dark sleepless nights, it affects my love life and my family.

Discussing these things with him would never did things. Maybe give me some answers or just make everything worse, but I believe it would be worth a try, sitting down at a dinner to talk. To be able to look him in the eye and tell him what’s what. Showing him he didn’t ruin my life

completely. I would be brutally honest and tell him what I think about him and wanting my words to hurt him like he’s hurt me and my family. Maybe we wouldn’t even eat, I know I wouldn’t have an appetite at the sight of him. This Dinner wouldn’t be for me to forgive him because that will never happen. But by the end of our dinner party I may need forgiveness from God, after I tell Phil where to shove it. This Dinner Party would be the start to conquering my fear of him, because he’s nothing but a coward, scum and he doesn’t deserve my time of day ever again.