GRANDPA BETRAYAL

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Dear Incestuous and Pedophilic Grandfather,

It had to be around the time of my first year of Preschool. I was wearing purple leggings with a white turtleneck that had little purple rosebuds all over it. I was in your bedroom with you at Nonna’s old house. Mom dropped me off there. It was early in the day, and it seemed that nobody else was really home. It was quiet. You were propped up on some pillows between your back and the dark wood headboard. I was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, trying to watch TV. I couldn’t really leave the room because Taz might have been around somewhere. I think he was downstairs. Mom told me not to leave the room when she dropped me off.

You said that I couldn’t see the TV and pulled me up from the foot of the bed onto the bed with you. I laid on my belly at the end of the bed with my chin in my hands, watching TV. You started tickling my toes and I kicked and giggled a little, and then you pulled me up to where you were on the bed by my ankles.

You pulled me on top of you with your hands around my waist and started grinding me into this lump in your pants.

Then you pushed me back onto your right side (my left). You pulled off my leggings and flung them onto the wall. I remember feeling uncomfortable ever since I came that morning to begin with. But I felt even worse when you pulled me on top of you. And I felt even worse when you pulled off my leggings. As I watched them lightly smack the wall and then fall down to the ground where they were out of sight beside the bed, I felt it grow significantly harder to ignore the fact that I was feeling uncomfortable.

I pulled the blanket over me, and you helped pull some blanket up from the tangled mess of light turquoise sheets. You told me, “Come on, lay with Grandpa.” You are worthless and disgusting. I HATE YOU FOR DOING THIS TO ME.

You put your fingers on my belly, then below my belly button, then in my underwear. You tickled my labia for a few moments before you put your fingertips in my vagina. It hurt. It hurt to feel your fingernails scraping and scratching against my clitoris, and it hurt because your hands were dry. But more than anything, it hurt because I was a little girl and you were doing something that made me feel dirty. I know now that I felt dirty merely because it is something that shouldn’t have been done to me or any little girl. It was inappropriate and deranged. I can’t say that I know what is wrong with you that would possess you to do something so criminal, but I do know one thing and I am telling you right now: I am not my mother, or any of your other sick twisted daughters. I do not want to be part of your disgusting group of sexually twisted, emotionally tormented victims. All I am and all will ever be in connection to you is a SURVIVOR of YOUR sickness that once victimized me.

As I sit down and allow myself to pop the bubble of memories I pushed so deep into the back of my mind and sort through them all, I remember how that same day that you threw my purple leggings at the wall in your room, Nonna walked in while you were right in the middle of fingering me. The worst part is that neither one of you flinched. Neither one of you acted like there was anything wrong, uncomfortable or even at the very least unusual going on there. She could see that your hand was in between my legs under the blankets, moving around as you poked your fingers inside of me. It was as if I was the only one who was affected by what was going on. As I watched her come in cleaning and picking up around the room until she walked out and continued on cleaning without saying a single word, I felt like I really must have been crazy. I asked myself over and over again, is this really happening? Is Grandpa really doing something wrong? Am I just feeling weird and why do I feel so bad then? I just felt bad. Bad was the way I felt and bad was the thing I felt myself to be.

I know you didn’t think about how I felt when you turned me over, pushed my face into the pillow and moved your body back and forth over mine, poking me with your penis every time you moved forward. I felt worse than words can explain. I was helpless, and up until now as I write you this letter, only one tear has fallen from my eyes over what happened that day. And that tear fell right onto your pillow. Now I cry, and I am finally letting every tear out. I am SICK AND TIRED of holding it in. I will shout it out to the whole world, now. Because I know that I am not saying anything bad about myself at all by telling my story, but I am telling a lot of truth that needs to be known about a disgusting, rotten man like you. A man who likes to ruin little girls. I hope you realize now what a mistake you made, because I AM THE LITTLE GIRL YOU DID NOT RUIN. If you think I would dare let you get away with ruining my little sister or any other precious little girl in this world, you are wrong.

I am making you known for what you are: an incestuous pedophilic grandfather.

NOT AFRAID OF YOU,
Talia Ray