Beginning Again

When I found out that my ex-stepdad had killed himself around this time of year last year I didn’t know how to feel about it. This may be a little odd to say, but at first I was elated. There’s a lot of reasoning behind that.. But then I learned that he had molested his niece’s two daughters (they’re awfully young, not even twelve yet) and instantly I became overwhelmed with grief, for them, not for him.

He took his own life as a way to avoid going to court for what he did to those young girls.

I could’ve done something to stop it. I knew long before anyone that he was a pedophile. When my mom said that she was marrying him, I was around 10 or 11 at the time, I cried out no. To this day she still shakes her head about that. About the fact that deep within me, I didn’t feel safe around him, no matter how hard I tried.

When everyone was around and present I was okay, but as soon as I was left alone in a room with him (even momentarily) I didn’t feel okay. I felt very creeped out, not okay, like something could happen quickly and it bothered me. It was an endless process of “okay, how quickly can I get out of here without him being bothered by it”.

It didn’t help that he had a quick temper and an even quicker hand. I remember him being upset at me because I was on the phone with a classmate for over ten minutes and because the main line for our house was also his “business line” we couldn’t use the phone for long, even though he had call waiting and we could just simply answer the other line and then switch to tell the other person we’d call them back. Without a warning he barged into my bedroom, as I was on the phone, and began yelling at me. I hung up the phone, and the next thing I know I’m getting attacked. I started kicking, really hoping that I’d nail him in the balls, but unfortunately I just kept kicking him in the stomach or the ribs. For whatever reason he grabbed at my legs but instead began pulling down my pants, for which I really began flailing because 1. it disturbed me and 2. I wasn’t about to let anything happen to me. Throughout the whole minute or two that this is happening my mom was behind him trying to pull him off of me.

I’ll never forget that night.

I’ll also never forget before that night, being woken up and told to pack stuff for school tomorrow. I’ll never forget nonchalantly walking about the house gathering stuff as a sheriff sat at our kitchen table with Gary in handcuffs. The sheriff, I later found out, always responded to calls that involved Gary. Why? Because Gary had a history of throwing women around and being abusive and this guy, this amazing guy, would never take it. He would tear into Gary and tell him what a shit he is for beating women.

The night that I was told to pack things up I slept through a night that would forever leave me as a sole target. What do I mean by that? After that night, my sister refused to ever step foot back in that house and actually, Gary told her to never come back. I can’t exactly blame her for never wanting to come back, especially after seeing my mom go flying across my sister’s bedroom because Gary rammed into the bedroom door so hard that it flew open and threw my mom. Then he tried to go after my sister, for what? Who knows, she was just there.

I don’t know how I slept through all that yelling, granted it was happening below me in the basement, but still. Generally you could hear everything through the house. That was the first time I knew what it felt like to not sleep in your own bed, though, thankfully my sister and I ended up at my grandparents and slept in the twin beds we used to when we’d stay the night. Little did I know that in a few short years, that little twin bed would be my twin bed indefinitely.

As much as I am glad that Gary is dead, I wish that he was alive to be treated like shit for being a pedophile. He deserves every ounce of abuse that he would get for that. He deserves never having a stable life and being told how much of a shit he is. But now, all i’m left with is the anger that I still have towards him. Maybe, just maybe someday I’ll find his gave and stomp on that hollow ground.

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