Say Something: Pt 8 The Worth of Statements— I told the detectives and prosecutor I really didn’t know when everything happened. They said to just write on the witness statement what I remember. I had to make a statement.
Years before that courtroom, perhaps when I am sixteen or seventeen and Brenda two years younger, the years hazy from our timeless way of life, Brenda ostensibly broke our silence about our father’s sexual assault of us.
My father could raise his voice when he was angry or lecturing but he also knew how to whisper so quietly and secretly to me that no one in the room knew the terrible things he spoke to me.
Say Something: Pt 3 The Worth of Voice—Suddenly, I turn, back to the door. I have never felt so alone and helpless or that the world is so large and scary. For the first time, I see this huge world beyond my family. It isn’t safe.
Say Something Pt 1: The Worth of Rape—I just want to get out of this dark room into daylight and away from everything that courtroom represents.
My hold on reality is tenuous at times. I roll up in my sheets, comforter, and pillow, wrapping my arms around me. I don't know how I fell asleep—fearful of his coming, down the hall, through the door, and for me.
Christmas won't be the holiday it once was, staying home all day in pjs, curled up with cat, watching Christmas movies, and eating per no schedule nor health. I am thankful God graces me with celebrating as I know how right now.