Afterward, he made hot chocolate.
It was winter. Just before Christmas. My father was off work for the holiday. He was a teacher, so he had more time off than my mother. He was home while she was at work, taking “care” of me and my brother. There was a lot of snow on the ground. We were excited about the snow. About Christmas. About not being at school. Magic was in the air. Magic…and evil.
He had been sexually abusing me for years, but I was so young, I didn’t understand. I couldn’t comprehend. I turned reality into unreality. I cloaked what was happening to me in fantasy. But this year, the year of snow on the ground and magic, I was older. Nine or ten years old. I couldn’t make it all go away. I couldn’t deceive myself any longer. I had run out of fantasies. I was…
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