~Father.

Dearest Father,

I realize you are not doing well and are asking for me to come see you. I would love to, you know, because I love you. I don't know why I love you. I imagine it is because half of me is a part of you.
Does that not make you sick to your stomach though? Knowing that you are dying and that you are asking for comfort from the little girl you raped... time and again?

It's time to make your peace now. I understand. Because the lord Jesus is whispering your name and leading you to an open grave. It's time to repent and get every sin and vile act you ever performed erased from your slate so you can enter into glorious heaven as white as snow.

Now, far be it from me to prevent your entrance into the Holy Heaven above, but please, by all means take this with you... my gift:

I love you, father. I even forgive you. But, I want you to always remember that very first day it happened. The day I came out from the bathroom, innocent.

Wrapped in a towel. My little legs taking me to my room to get ready for the day. And how you called my name. And innocently, I ran to you, because you were my father and protector... and savior from harm. Remember please, the look you had on your face, the slight half smile and a look I can't describe, but surely you must know. You were wearing it so well.

Remember mommy in the other room, sick and helpless. I remember how I could not call for her because she was sick and I just wanted her to get better. That's all. Because at this point, I loved you both with all my heart. With every beat, my heart called your names. "Mommy. Daddy." But that vanished so quickly because for some unknown reason to me, even to this very day, I woke up your daughter and in less than one hour, I became your whore.

Your hand slowly slid up between my legs and the nakedness behind my towel shown in your eyes a look of evil I had never seen. And you were my God figure. If I don't obey, I'll go to hell. Remember? Ah, yes. And in that moment that your fingers touched my cunt, do you know what I was thinking? No? Well, let me tell you...

I froze. Hoping I was dreaming. And the shushing of your voice broke me. In an instant I learned fear and betrayal. In an instant my daddy became a stranger and my love for you wilted and died out. It slithered down my right thigh. In about five seconds, my life with you came into full veiw. You bringing home the kitten hidden in your coat pocket. A surprise for mother, because you loved her and wanted to surprise her. It's my first real memory of you. The days you held me while I sat on your lap and you soothed my every fear and uncertainty away. How we walked on the railroad tracks that day,  hand in hand... father and daughter... and how you picked me up to ride me on your shoulders. Was it my warmth on the back of your neck that started your fantasy?  I didn't mean for it to. I'm sorry.

Oh. Here I am, once again. Apologizing for something that wasn't my fault to begin with. Or so the many psychiatrists/psychotherapists says. They all have said I'm not to blame. Yet, here I am, playing YOUR savior. Looking for reasons to place the blame on me instead of you. You're a man. You only responded to me the way any dog would. Your fuck partner is sick and not doing well... but I'm not. Your seed can land precisely on my backside or stomach. Just as long as I'm not impregnated, it's not incest, in your eyes.

And I was too fucking young to know what the hell was running through your head. Only that for some reason, I knew this kind of attention wasn't meant for me. And I knew that when mommy found out, she would hate me. How did I even know that? I was just a baby. YOUR daughter. The seed you planted inside my mommy, your wife. Yet, I knew. I knew enough to not scream for her. And you took my silence as approval for what you were doing. It was not approval, for your information, it was fear and confusion.

I hate you as much as I love you. I want you to die as badly as I want you to live. I want my daddy as much as I hate my molestor.

You're not free of me. I just want you to know that. You may die. You might even get into heaven, if there is one... but I'm only a few steps behind and Jesus won't save you from me. Jesus can't save. Not this time. Because your sickness is my revenge. And I will follow you through your pearly gates and I will follow you down your streets of gold, and you will know the pain I have carried all these years. It is my right.

But you... you were my father. My daddy. I was to be nurtured and fed and protected. Instead, you showed me how life falls apart and nothing really is safe. And in a way, that is a good thing, because I learned from you how not to be.

And I gave birth to a beautiful son. And I loved him. I protected him with my own life. Because of you, I learned how to sacrifice my desires over my needs and I let him go. So he would not suffer the same fate as me. Rape by his father.

Because of you, I learned how to love honestly and because of you, I learned how not to betray.
So, in essence, I learned the most important facts of life from you. I thank you. I love you. And I hate you. And it hurts to do so.

Your most loving daughter,
~Kristie