My mind is full of questions. I don’t have many answers. Some I may not want the answers.

Lots of why questions. Like why did my Dad’s friend pick me? Was it because I was the oldest? Why should that even matter?

I wasn’t of age. Not for another couple of years. I wasn’t curious at all in boys at the time. I was enjoying living in the country.

What did I do to deserve this? I did my chores. I did my homework. I even kept my room clean; sort of.

Did Dad make him angry and he wasn’t man enough to tell him? No way, they had been friends for many years.

This sort of thing didn’t happen where I’m from. At least I had never heard about it.

For the next two years, I didn’t say anything. I kept it all to myself; deep, deep inside.

After I turned eighteen it all stopped. Just as suddenly as it had started.

I didn’t think I would be believed. Not that I was a liar. I just thought Dad and the guy were close.

I told my Mom and she tells me, “I wish you would have told me sooner. We can’t do anything now that you are of age.

I took my Mom’s word for it. I know we live in the country, but we didn’t live up on a mountain some where.

Now a days I’d love to live in the mountains. Away from most all humans, but not all humans.

Later on she told me she told Dad. And that he threatened the guy. It made me feel a little better.

At the time, I wished my Dad would have taken his 12 gauge shotgun and blown the guys head off.

For many years I run myself down, I thought horrible things about myself. For many years I wanted to die.

There were a few times, I tried to take my own life. Thank God I wasn’t good at that.

I tried drowning how I felt, I tried to cover it up with drugs.

Of course there are a few years that are a blur. But that’s how I chose to deal with things.

After some time and feel I was getting no where. I gave counseling a try. I was glad I did.

There were other thing that had me troubled. Not just the initial issue.

I took the counseling for a year I guess. I let everything out. Knowing I wasn’t going to be condemned made it easier.

The counselor felt that I was making such progress, she began to wean me from my sessions. I was feeling confident.

Time went on and I did more than exist. I manage to actually live my life. I’ve had my ups and downs, just like everyone else. Some were pretty rough, having my heart broken for the first time really hurt. I almost wanted to die again.

It didn’t kill me and I didn’t want to kill myself. It wasn’t the end of the world and I manage to get through a few more broken hearts. None of which killed me either.

Time passed as it always will. I finally landed a relationship that is still going strong after seventeen years. In the beginning as in any relationship there were ups and downs. Real highs and even lower lows. But after a few years it leveled out. The lows were not as low and the highs became higher. With this young woman I was able to unveil things I hadn’t before. And despite my baggage she has stayed with me.

With all relationships, everyone has a little baggage. Some more than others. Some can make or break a relationship. Others aren’t worth giving a second thought. Then there are the ones that take time, time to understand; or figure out if it’s going to cause problems you can’t overlook. Whether you just can’t handle it for one reason or another.

I thought that I was actually past what happened to me. I thought that I had let it go. But I discovered that wasn’t true. I began to write things out. I started writing a story about revenge; more or less. It began to get very dark and bloody. But I found I was able to express thing I didn’t know was there. The hate and loathing. Despising the thought of his face entering my memory.

Living in a different state over six hundred miles away, would give me some comfort. Knowing it would be a snowball’s chance in hell that I’d see him. Things changed when my father fell ill. I had to go back home. I was hoping I wasn’t going to see him. Or if I saw him I could avoid being around him.

But when his wife asked to take me out to eat, I was hungry and had to accept. His wife has always been nice to me. She was an awesome friend to my mother. She told my mom things to tell me after she passed. She told me of a woman that was knowledgeable of my adoption.

Any how, a few days later my Dad passed away. He made it to seventy-nine years. Mom had passed many, many years prior. Dad didn’t remarry and I understood that completely. They had been together over twenty-five years. Of course they had their ups and downs as well. But they loved us all the same. I have two younger siblings. I still┬átalk to the youngest.

Back to the main issue at hand. Off and on the thought of what that man did to me would cross my mind. The past few years I’ve used those thought to write great antagonists. But no matter how great, all their plans have been foiled.

On slight occasions I think of what I’d do if it wasn’t illegal. The things I’d do to him. Lots of torture comes to mind. Things I’ve never seen or heard of in any story. I don’t believe it would be appropriate for this format. As a matter of fact, someone might think I’d need mental help. I don’t need it. I know right from wrong and I’m not going to let him screw with my life any more.

God can do more to him than I could imagine. God knows the guy’s true weaknesses.