Oct 19, notokay whyididnttell I was 16 years old. I spent the night drinking at a house party with a bunch of my classmates. I drank to the point where I was fairly intoxicated— flirting and kissing a boy I met way back in 6th grade. He was nice to me though, and I enjoyed his company. After kissing for a few minutes, he guided me to the bottom of the staircase that led up to the bedrooms.
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July 17th, When I was 6 years old my bother began dating the man I have known as my father. You see, before then it was just me and mommy conquering the world, the two of us with our hands zipped into each others tight so no one could separate us. I began to notice that she was happier and leaving me at my brothers house more often and coming home later and later. I came home one day to find this stranger in my home with my mother on his lap and she declared to me this was going to be Daddy. Never having a father before I instantly became attached and invited him into our family.
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There was a smell to the room, of stale perfume, my father's cigarettes and of bodies. Even so, I was drawn to this room, as if to danger, a wish to pit my puny strength against my father's, whose every command was law. My mother made up my parent's bed each day by dragging a thick maroon cover over the top to hide the rumpled sheets and blankets. She had dyed the bedspread the colour of dried blood, to hide the stains on what was once a white bedspread, which she had brought with her from Holland. The spread was too heavy for regular washing and gave off a musty smell.
My grandmother lived in this massive two-story farm house in the middle of nowhere. Upon my arrival she led me upstairs to a room at the end of the hall. I had been hoping for a room downstairs, but I was pleasantly surprised to find a room decked out with television and a brand new Super Nintendo.