Inappropriate- How Do You Know?
Dad never laid a hand on me.
I can’t remember a single time he hit me, or spanked me, or twisted my arm, or pinched me, or threatened me. He left that strictly up to Mom. I honestly think he was uncomfortable with how physical Mom got. He never intervened, and if he ever voiced any concern I was never made aware.
He was also never sexually inappropriate. Not once. That didn’t save him.
Birthday Party
I was invited to the neighbor girl’s birthday party. All of the girls were a grade younger than me, and they all went to a different school, because the neighbor girl still went to school in town.
I didn’t fit in. I didn’t catch their references. They were prissy, and judgy. I tried so hard to impress them.
It was a sleepover, so we were all upstairs. They were talking about the boys at their school, and who had crushes on whom. They would divulge who they wanted to hold hands with, who they wanted to kiss. One of the girls even divulged that she had already had some kisses. They all seemed so impressed, so I told them how far I’d made it.
The response was mixed. At first they were all interested and curious. Was this all it took to be popular?
They asked questions and I had answers. Some of them got quite excited, then the neighbor girl got scared that we were going to be overheard. I remember her expression changing from excitement to guilt.
She told me that I was ruining her birthday party. The rest of the girls turned on me and they all seemed ashamed. Then it hit me that they all went to church together too. I felt unsafe. I asked if I could go home, and said I didn’t feel good.
The next day the neighbor mom came over. I knew it wasn’t good and I hoped that if I just hid in my room nothing would happen.
Both moms came in my room. They were so mad. Spit flew from their lips and they struggled to make words they were so mad. It was just me and them.
The said to pretend that we were at the party, just the three of us, girls hanging out at the party. They said to repeat what I said, so I did.
They were enraged. The neighbor mom told me I damaged 5 little girls, and those little girls have parents that don’t trust my neighbor anymore because she was supposed to keep them safe. She told me she wished they hadn’t invited me. She said she didn’t want me hanging out with her kids anymore.
My mom told me to stop being a slut. She told me I just cost her the closest friendship she had in Indiana. She told me it was unforgivable to tell lies like that.
They did ask me how I knew the things I knew, through gritted teeth. I didn’t feel like I could tell them. I told them I was sorry for lying.
Mom said sorry isn’t good enough.
I found out later that all the other girls came down with pink eye.
I just wanted to forget about it.
I went back to school on Monday, and they pulled me into the office. There were two well-dressed people, one performing male the other performing female. They spoke in placating tones-the ones people use when you’re being handled. They said I could tell them anything. I was interrogated for most of the school day. They asked so many questions about my dad.
I told them he never touched me. I had lots of wrong answers that day.
When I got home, Mom had been called. They asked her lots of questions too. She asked how I could do this to him. She asked how I could treat my dad like this when I said I wanted one for so long. She told me I didn’t deserve parents.
She didn’t talk to me for a long time after that.
I wished so hard that I had just shut up. I wished I could pick up the words and shove them down my throat. I started smoking. I started having naughty time with the neighbor brother. I hated myself.
Survivor Literacy 
What do you think?