24th October 2000
O yes you live in that dark world
But you can’t reach me
It’s only the waking world that’s open to your charms
O father, do you think you can fool anyone anymore?
I see my writing gets smaller the more to the right I get – is that a sign?
You hide forever in your shadows but I’ll seek you out, fear not
Justice goes far beyond our ability to comprehend her
BUT I would kill you for what you have done to my sister
You have hurt the golden child and I will kill you for it
You never realised what you were hiding in your midst
It’s amazing how you put down anyone with any kind of spirituality
You knew they would be your downfall
But mum and I know and have made certain that you will face hell in your next life
I said to mum I’d really like to be there when you go to hell
I’d laugh
No, I don’t know
****
I’m sorry
But I’m only sorry for the child you were
Not what you have chosen to become.
2nd January 2001
Dear father,
“Christmas is a time for family” as your new wife said to my mother last year. It certainly is, which is why I spent it with my partner, grandma, mum and sister. Why would you think that has anything to do with you? Do you really think a man who decides he can use his daughter any way he sees fit still has a right to call himself a parent?
You beg for forgiveness not for my benefit, but your own selfish reasons. Your new wife probably thinks it’s odd and sad that your daughters don’t want to know you. Maybe you should tell her the truth, then she’d understand.
You regretted the loss of your family for one reason only: as status symbols. Got the flashy house, the big car, now, what’s missing? Oh yeah, wife and kids. Better remedy that! So you pick yourself a trophy wife with a readymade family, kids older so no hassle there like you had when we were born, screaming babies etc.
You have apologised to me exactly twice for what you did, and it wasn’t sincere either time. The first time it was because mum made you apologise when she found out what you were doing, I think it was her confused notion of what a victim needed. “I’m sorry” you sighed, with all the exaggerated sincerity of an 8 year old forced to admit he’s done something wrong, but who doesn’t actually regret it, just knows he’ll be punished if he doesn’t say sorry.
The second time was by letter when I was 16 or 17, and then you had the gall to say, what was it now, something like “I’m sorry for what I did, but when you’re older you’ll understand. You see your mother was refusing me her wifely duties, and so I had to get my needs from you.” That’s not an apology! It’s certainly not an excuse! At that age then I understood exactly what sexual frustration was all about, and I also knew then you have an answer for it on the end of each arm!
Is there any lower form of life than a man who blames his twisted desires on his wife? Let me know if you find one.
I loathe you for what you’ve made me into. I hate you for making me feel this shame, this rage, this pain. I hate you for telling me my mum didn’t love me. You made me believe it! You made me hate her just so I wouldn’t tell! You cynical, manipulative bastard!
Until I remembered that you told me that, I thought that maybe, someday, I could forgive, for my own peace of mind, not yours. But now? Uh-uh. I could forgive, perhaps, something done on the spur of the moment, or done in alcohol, or in anger and pain. But I can’t ever forgive the long campaign you waged against my innocence. I don’t think you can call a two-year period of nightly abuse a spontaneous loss of control.
You don’t DESERVE forgiveness, don’t you get it? Why the hell do you care anyway, when you professed never to believe in the human soul, let alone any religious belief system? Getting a little worried now you’re getting older and closer to death, maybe? Feeling a little bit avis domestica?
What gave you the idea all sins can be forgiven? Some Christian crap that was forced down your throat at an early age? That stuff about Jesus dying for your sins so you just have to confess and repent? It ain’t that easy, pal.
Some things shouldn’t ever be forgiven or forgotten. Remember, he that doesn’t learn from history is condemned to repeat the bastard.
You’ve never had the courage to face yourself, so you’ve never repented. If you had, you’d have written to me yourself, not got your wife to phone my mum. You probably only did that because it was looking a bit iffy to her. You only ever think of yourself. That’s your problem. You have no idea what goes on inside other people because you’ve never faced your own problems.
I don’t give a damn what kind of abuse you’ve suffered. I’ve had it too, remember? and I’ve never turned round and played it out on another person.
How dare you try and intrude on my life again, just when I was starting to feel safe? How dare you make me think that you’re out there thinking about me? Have you any idea how that makes me feel? No, you wouldn’t have, would you.
Maybe if you could ever get outside your own head, stop thinking you’re the centre of the world, you could actually become a person rather than a complete arsehole. It’s called empathy. Look it up in the dictionary.
You must be pretty scared of knocking down all those walls you’ve constructed over the years. But have you got it in you to do it, I wonder? probably not. I dread to think how your next few hundred incarnations go.
Frankly you can go and take a flying stab at a rolling doughnut.
No longer your daughter,
Karen.
Congradulations. I just read your letter and felt your pain and have swallowed that anger when I was abused. Still confused and searching for answers, you seem to have put your thoughts in order and hope you walk out of the fog soon enough.