I was a little girl when you made me watch as you beat and abused them. You made them strip naked waiting their turn so you could humiliate them and you whipped them until they quivered and bled with braided boxwood branches. You forced me to sit close and watch. I saw them try to slide off the bed to get away from the salt your wife rubbed in their torn skin after you were done. I can’t get the images out of my head. I can’t make myself feel all the pain of feeling so little and powerless that I buried.

Tomorrow I am not going to sit there paralyzed with fear anymore.

I hate you, and I hate my father for leaving me with you.

When you die, I won’t be at your funeral. I will find your grave and piss on it though.