My Step Father

I was twelve, and in the fifth grade; I loved talking to people and climbing trees and playing with bugs. I didn’t know how to make coffee, because I never drank it, and mum never wanted me to make it, lest I decided I suddenly wanted to drink coffee, because coffee was bad for you and turned you into a short old woman. At least, that’s what she told me; I had no reason not to believe her. My step-father was babysitting me because my mum had been called into work last minute, and she left in a hurry, giving me a quick kiss on the head before she left. After she left, my step-father wanted me to make coffee for him. “Daddy, how do you make coffee?” I asked, genuinely curious. It was hard to do something you didn’t know how to do perfectly on …show more content…
I made coffee for my mum that morning, and considered drinking it, but mum said I would turn into a short old woman and drank half of it herself. I wasn’t sure if that was true anymore, but didn’t touch the coffee regardless. She dropped me off at school and wished me a good day. Mum had unexpectedly been called into work, and couldn’t pick me back up from school. My step-father came in her place, pulling up in his black truck. I got in, said bye to my friends happily, and greeted him with a smile. On the way home, he held me close and was rubbing my arm, which he always did, so I thought nothing of it – until he touched my breast. I thought it was an accident and let it slide, until he did it again, this time more firmly with the whole breast. I slapped his hand away and told him not to touch me there. “I was just testing you to see if you would notice if a guy was touching you.” He said, laughing at …show more content…
We got home and he slammed every door possible; his truck door, the garage door, then the bedroom door. The old house we lived rattled with nearly every blow of his anger. I was afraid, but there was no one there to help me. He came back out a few hours later, and whispered in my ear while I was making myself a sandwich. “You’re nothing to me.” He said. I spent the day crying while doing my homework because I felt wrong for telling the truth, and that I felt like I should have let him touch me, because maybe then he would be happy with me; mum didn’t believe me when I told her later because my step-father told her he was only saying sorry and that I wouldn’t listen to him. He continued to touch me sexually, but I never told anyone because I felt like if I told, people would think I was lying because my dad was an okay guy to everyone