When did you realize that playing dumb was the only way to survive?
The Betrayal and the Pawn
Ever since I was a child, I knew there was something off about my family, especially my dad. I was seven when I noticed him staring at me in a swimsuit for the first time. I didn’t know what it meant, but I knew it made me feel uncomfortable.
So, after that, I did everything I could to put distance between us. Whenever my mom left us alone, I’d try and sit as far away from him as possible. Or whenever we were in the car, I always insisted on sitting directly behind him instead of in the passenger seat, saying it made me carick otherwise.
My plan was working seamlessly until I turned 14 and hit puberty. Because that’s when me and my dad actually started getting close again. He started buying me things and gave me my own space.
This went on for a year, which was long enough to make me believe that he was just overprotective when I was a child. We were spending all our time together, and he was the only adult that didn’t make me feel like I was all alone in the world. He listened to me about everything and always knew just the right thing to say to cheer me up until I got a boyfriend.
That’s when everything changed. At first, my dad pretended to be supportive. He cracked awkward jokes, ruffled my hair, said stupid things like, “My little girl’s growing up.” I smiled and laughed along because I wanted so badly to believe it. To believe he was normal, to believe I hadn’t wasted a year convincing myself he was safe.
But then came the small punishments, cancelling our movie nights, getting too busy for our drives, giving short, cold replies when I tried to talk about school or friends. I thought maybe he was just adjusting.
Well, I was standing in the hallway texting my boyfriend when my dad walked past. He grabbed the phone from my hand so hard it nearly sprained my wrist.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed. I froze. I had never seen him like this before, not even when I was a kid.
He aggressively grabbed my phone and started going through all of our texts right in front of me. My dad ripped my phone out of my hands so hard it nearly sprained my wrist, then started going through my texts right in front of me.
When I tried to grab it back, he shoved me off him. Not enough to throw me across the room, but enough to make it clear.
When he was done reading, he didn’t hand the phone back. He just stood there, silent, staring at me. For a second, I almost thought he was about to cry, and then he said it.
The sentence that killed whatever was left of the little girl who wanted to believe she was safe.
“You were supposed to be mine.”
My blood went cold. And in that moment, I knew I had to leave somewhere, anywhere else. But since I still didn’t trust any other relative in my family, I had to make it subtle.
So, I called my aunt on my mom’s side, asking if I could come over to visit. And that’s how I spent my evening on a three-hour bus ride, wondering whether or not my dad was truly uh well, you know.
The second she opened the door, my life changed forever because she was smiling so hard her face was practically beaming.
“Daisy, come here.”
Her hug was so genuine, it was almost enough to erase all the painful thoughts I was having. Almost. Because as soon as we got inside, I started crying my eyes out.
I wasn’t planning on telling her anything, but she stroked my hair and said, “I know about your dad, honey.” This made me cry even harder, but I knew I had come to the right place.
That week was the first time in years I actually felt safe. Every night before I slept, she tucked me in and gave me a new dream catcher for my nightmares. And every morning, she’d teach me how to meditate and self-regulate my emotions. It was the first time in my life that I didn’t feel like a prize someone was trying to claim.
Little did I know that week ended up being the calm before the storm because the next day she handed me a help wanted flyer for a job at a local old people’s home. I told her I appreciated it, but I was too busy with school to work.
She went completely silent and just left. But the next morning, everything felt off. She was smiling, but her eyes were cold.
“You know,” she said casually, “Your parents keep calling.” “They miss you so much.” My mouth went completely dry, and I had to stop myself from crying.
“But I’m sure you don’t want them to know what we talked about, do you?” “I can only imagine what your grandparents would say.” “Your cousins, your friends.” I felt tears welling up in my eyes. That’s when she rehanded me the job flyer.
I wanted to scream and beat her senseless, but I didn’t. Instead, I took the flyer, plastered on a huge smile, and said, “Of course, I’ll take the job.” She smiled to herself, thinking she had won. If there’s one thing my dad taught me, it’s to always hide your intentions.
