I only want to say three things, and I promise they are not excuses. They have, however, been an important part of me being able to forgive myself, heal, and live a normal life.
One. I was only a child when these things happened.
Two. I had no understanding of what I was doing.
Three. We never had sex.
Due to years of repression, and the shock of the moment, I cannot remember things exactly as they happened. I remember it like a film nior scene. Words will not serve to fully describe the night my father found us.
He stood filling my doorway, silhouetted against the light outside my bedroom. Only one time since have I ever felt a fear so crippling.
I remember he told her to go get dressed.
I only remember one thing he said to me that night.
"I want to kill you."
I spent the rest of the day thinking he would. After all, isn't that what I deserved? I knew what I was doing was wrong; but I also knew it was the only way to make me feel normal after my penis got hard.
The weeks that followed were filled with shame, sleeplessness, and agony. Mostly, at my own hand.
This shit was way to heavy. I remember one other thing my dad said to me later that day.
"Do you know why you are in so much trouble? Because what you did was an adult thing, so you are in an adult amount of trouble." These words were spoken with a heartbroken tone, and I remember feeling how hurt he really was. I don't think he was able to fully comprehend the situation much better than I was.
I'm a dad now, and I can say with certainty that I have no idea how I would respond.
I plan on sharing this story in parts as I can. I need to talk to the people involved before I share more details.
The reason I am writing at all is this. If we are ever going to stop hypocrisy, we need to be willing to step up first. Before I can tell others to share their stories, I must first be honest about mine.
They say the truth will set you free. I have just begun a quest to find out if that is true.
End.
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