Page 7 - My FlipBook

I will have our chance to give victim impact statements in
front of the judge, to see if what we say will affect sentencing.
I pull out my notebook and look at what I have so far.
Victim Impact Statement, it reads.
My dad hurt me, and now he’s in jail. I’m glad he’s
there so he can’t hurt me and my stepsister anymore, but
I never finished the sentence. I can’t bear to write what
I was thinking when I wrote it. To finish the thought, but I
don’t want to hurt him.
I resist the urge to crumple the piece of paper. I won’t go
back to where I was last year, trying to protect my father. All
it did was cause pain, and not just to myself, but to Sarah too.
I try to force the thought from my mind. The date of
the hearing hasn’t been set yet. It could be months away. I
have time.
Thinking about what my dad did to me, and my chance

to tell the judge who is sentencing him about it, makes my
stomach clench. My hands sweat. It’s like I’m scared or
running from something, but nothing’s here with me. Just
school. Not Dad.
I can’t escape him. Instead of letting the dread take hold
of me, I do what I can do. A trick I learned from reading
an article about coping with trauma and stress. Change the
channel in my mind. Move toward a distraction, something
productive. Something that can help other people, people
who suffered like Sarah. Or me. Better yet, maybe the efforts
of SASAH can help keep stuff like that from happening in
the first place.
I head for the meeting in the building behind me. Inside,

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