I told you the truth, but you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t protect me. It continued. I was uncomfortable, and it seemed to be progressing, so I told another adult. In an instant, I was sent away to hide. You hid me for months—to protect him.
What if it had been a woman you didn’t know, moving in on him? That would be considered cheating. What would you have done then? But it was me—your own flesh and blood—and you still chose to hide me to protect him. Not once, but twice.
We hid for so long that they gave up—because the authorities had no other options.
You brought me back just to have a volatile relationship with him until I could get out.
I did get out—but I had to come back. And under terrible circumstances, I ended up financially supporting both of you. What a cruel twist of fate. There has to be a reason, now that I look back, more than an inheritance of pain and injustice I didn’t deserve.
