Read Online Say When by Tara West - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tara West
Tags: Fiction, Coming of Age
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secretary embezzled millions and almost bankrupted his company.
But I guess after nearly three years of feeling like shit for raping me, my dad finally caved and bought the Lexus. Maybe he thought I’d forgive him when he came home with the shiny silver SUV. As if a material thing can make up for him violating not only my body, but my mind and spirit.
After the rape, I went through a total transformation. I withdrew, not just physically, but mentally, from the world. I dropped out of my school clubs and stopped hanging out with my friends, preferring solitude to the company of others. In fact, I would have abandoned all of my friends if Karri hadn’t hounded me. She was the one person I let in, and the one I finally confided in.
I just didn’t have the strength to face the world, not after what I went through. I close my eyes and try to shut out painful memories of that night, but the images still plague me, raping my mind, just as my dad had once done to my body. After he’d rolled off me, he slapped me across the face and told me it was my fault for dressing like a whore. I remember scooting against my headboard and crouching in a ball, blood dripping down my thighs and smearing my sheets. I shivered as the fan above me chilled my nude flesh, but I was too terrified to reach for a blanket.
I remember the hurt, confusion, and fear that had welled up inside me. I didn’t know I’d been dressing like a whore. Even though I was a high school sophomore, I still let my mom pick out my clothes. She had insisted, saying she had a better eye for the current fashions.
But my dad had told me I was asking for it by wearing low-rise skinny jeans and tight T-shirts. After he stumbled out of my room and left me sobbing into my pillow, dark thoughts tormented me. I thought maybe he was right, so the following week I opted to wear oversized shirts and heavy jackets. I brushed my hair forward so people wouldn’t see my face. I was afraid if people noticed me, they might see the shame I carried, or worse, they might want to rape me, too.
Every night I double-checked to see I’d locked the door. I even wedged a chair beneath my door handle for good measure. I didn’t want to take any chances of being molested again.
My clothes continued to get bigger, and I barely ate as I withdrew from the world more and more. The change in appearance distressed my mom to no end. As the months dragged on, my dad kept repeating that I was just going through a phase. Never once did he let on what he’d done.
Karri knew the truth. I carried feelings of inadequacy and guilt like a noose around my neck until Karri convinced me to snap out of it. It wasn’t my fault, she kept telling me. Finally, one day, I believed her.
That was the day I decided I’d no longer punish myself for what my dad had done to me—I’d punish him instead. I treated him with cold indifference until he died a year later.
A tap on my window startles me, and I look up to see my mom standing outside my door, hands on hips, giving me the death stare. I hear a soft whimper behind me before it turns into a loud wail.
No doubt the Wicked Witch frightens Tyler, too.
After I unstrap Tyler’s seat from the car, Mom gives me the once over and turns her gaze to the baby in my arms, scowling at Ty like he’s a case of the plague.
From day one, Mom has made it perfectly clear she doesn’t like Karri’s baby. She refused to go to Karri’s baby shower. All the times I’ve babysat Ty, she wouldn’t come within ten feet of him.
“It’s not the baby I despise,” she once told me. “It’s what your stupid friend has done with her life.”
“It’s not Ty’s fault,” I’d told my mom. “You could at least be nice to him.”
“Why should I?” Mom pouted. “And encourage your friend to breed more bastards?”
“News flash, Mom. Karri doesn’t care whether or not you approve of her lifestyle.”
But nothing I said ever worked on my mom. She was determined to
But I guess after nearly three years of feeling like shit for raping me, my dad finally caved and bought the Lexus. Maybe he thought I’d forgive him when he came home with the shiny silver SUV. As if a material thing can make up for him violating not only my body, but my mind and spirit.
After the rape, I went through a total transformation. I withdrew, not just physically, but mentally, from the world. I dropped out of my school clubs and stopped hanging out with my friends, preferring solitude to the company of others. In fact, I would have abandoned all of my friends if Karri hadn’t hounded me. She was the one person I let in, and the one I finally confided in.
I just didn’t have the strength to face the world, not after what I went through. I close my eyes and try to shut out painful memories of that night, but the images still plague me, raping my mind, just as my dad had once done to my body. After he’d rolled off me, he slapped me across the face and told me it was my fault for dressing like a whore. I remember scooting against my headboard and crouching in a ball, blood dripping down my thighs and smearing my sheets. I shivered as the fan above me chilled my nude flesh, but I was too terrified to reach for a blanket.
I remember the hurt, confusion, and fear that had welled up inside me. I didn’t know I’d been dressing like a whore. Even though I was a high school sophomore, I still let my mom pick out my clothes. She had insisted, saying she had a better eye for the current fashions.
But my dad had told me I was asking for it by wearing low-rise skinny jeans and tight T-shirts. After he stumbled out of my room and left me sobbing into my pillow, dark thoughts tormented me. I thought maybe he was right, so the following week I opted to wear oversized shirts and heavy jackets. I brushed my hair forward so people wouldn’t see my face. I was afraid if people noticed me, they might see the shame I carried, or worse, they might want to rape me, too.
Every night I double-checked to see I’d locked the door. I even wedged a chair beneath my door handle for good measure. I didn’t want to take any chances of being molested again.
My clothes continued to get bigger, and I barely ate as I withdrew from the world more and more. The change in appearance distressed my mom to no end. As the months dragged on, my dad kept repeating that I was just going through a phase. Never once did he let on what he’d done.
Karri knew the truth. I carried feelings of inadequacy and guilt like a noose around my neck until Karri convinced me to snap out of it. It wasn’t my fault, she kept telling me. Finally, one day, I believed her.
That was the day I decided I’d no longer punish myself for what my dad had done to me—I’d punish him instead. I treated him with cold indifference until he died a year later.
A tap on my window startles me, and I look up to see my mom standing outside my door, hands on hips, giving me the death stare. I hear a soft whimper behind me before it turns into a loud wail.
No doubt the Wicked Witch frightens Tyler, too.
After I unstrap Tyler’s seat from the car, Mom gives me the once over and turns her gaze to the baby in my arms, scowling at Ty like he’s a case of the plague.
From day one, Mom has made it perfectly clear she doesn’t like Karri’s baby. She refused to go to Karri’s baby shower. All the times I’ve babysat Ty, she wouldn’t come within ten feet of him.
“It’s not the baby I despise,” she once told me. “It’s what your stupid friend has done with her life.”
“It’s not Ty’s fault,” I’d told my mom. “You could at least be nice to him.”
“Why should I?” Mom pouted. “And encourage your friend to breed more bastards?”
“News flash, Mom. Karri doesn’t care whether or not you approve of her lifestyle.”
But nothing I said ever worked on my mom. She was determined to
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