Page 6 - My FlipBook

survivors—of the kind of abuse I went through. I want to do
something positive to make what happened to me mean
something. To show myself that what Dad did didn’t break
me.
Because I won’t let it.
A laugh trills behind me, from a girl catching a Frisbee
before one of her friends wraps their arms around her and
takes her down. I swallow. This year isn’t going to be like last
year. Pushing people away, keeping secrets—it only hurt me.
And my stepsister, Sarah.
There are other Sarahs out there, other people who have
been hurt, who will get hurt. That’s why I go to the meet-
ings, even if it’s hard being in a room full of people who
constantly talk about assault and how to prevent it. Ripping
the Band-Aid off every time I hear the word victim or survivor
or perpetrator. But I keep going.

Sarah and I generally avoid talking about my dad since he
pled guilty to battery with the intent to commit sexual assault
on a minor, on both of us, his daughter and stepdaughter. He
beat his wife, too, and Tiffany ended up pressing charges.
But we don’t ever hear her talk about it. The DA’s office
gave him the plea deal for a lesser charge (intent, rather
than admitting to sexually assaulting Sarah and me), since
they didn’t want to drag out the case and we didn’t have any
proof anyway. He says/she says kind of thing. This way, he’ll
for sure get jail time. Five years to life with the possibility
of parole. He could have gone free if it had gone to trial.
Still, five years to life is a big range. Sentencing doesn’t
happen for a couple of months, and that’s when Sarah and

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