TFR Home Page TFR Home PageContents ContentsPrev. Page Prev. PageNext Page Next PageComments Comments

I Remember
by Anonymous

I remember 5 years old:
hiding under the trailer steps.
praying they wouldn’t find me again
praying they wouldn’t try again
to hurt me , to touch me
to make me do those things
to violate my innocence.
I remember 11 years old:
hiding in the closet, my face
still stinging from Grandma's slaps,
her words " trash, filthy slut"
ringing in my ears and
my sister crying and
my Grandpa begging me to come out.
I remember 13 years old:
pushing my dresser against the door
praying to God that daddy can't get in
don't let him touch me
don’t let him hurt me
I remember razor blades and bleeding wrists
and anger " I'll lock you up forever"
and running with no place to go.
I remember 17 years old:
my sister screaming her ugly secret at me
running away from her, again to nowhere
screaming inside, vomiting by the roadside
hating Daddy and crying bitter tears
to wash away the filth, the disgust, the ugliness inside
cringing away from him, screaming
"I hate you" and "I wish you were dead"
I remember;
yes I do remember.
Oh God , why can't I just forget.

TFR Home Page | Submission Guidelines | Frequently Asked Questions | Sign Our Guest Book | Contents | Donations
Workshops | Event Calendar | TFR Background | How to Contact Us | Editors and Authors Only | Privacy Statement

© Copyright 1997, 2019, The Fairfield Review Inc., All Rights Reserved.
Document last modified on: 12/01/1997

(i[r].q=i[r].q||[]).push(arguments)},i[r].l=1*new Date();a=s.createElement(o),

ga('create', 'UA-22493141-2', 'auto');
ga('send', 'pageview');