When mom found out
So, this memory has been showing up frequently lately: When mom found out about dad. I was downstairs sleeping when mom yelled at me to come upstairs. I started up the steps and saw Mom and my sister at the top. I remember thinking to myself: This couldn’t be good. I got to the top of the stairs and mom asked me if dad ever touched me. I looked an my sister and she just looked back at me. I turned to my mom and said yes. Evidently, they were watching some news special about pedophiles and mom had asked my sister if dad had ever done that to her. If my mom had known what can of worms she was opening, she would never had asked. The next few days were terrible. A couple days later mom came to me and asked me to go outside with her. We sat on the trellis and she asked me again: “did dad ever touch you”? I said “yes, he did”. She kept asking me and asking me, explaining how things would never be the same if this happened. She wanted me to say I lied, but I wouldn’t. She tried for a couple of hours for me to change my mind. But I was stubborn and it was the truth and I wasn’t going to say what she wanted me to say. Later that same day, she had my sister, me and my dad get together to talk about it. I was sitting at the dining room table facing my mom, dad was on the other side with his head down. My sister was leaning against the wall. Mom is pacing back and forth ranting. I don’t remember what she was saying. I do remember dad with his head down, shaking his head and saying he can’t believe his daughters would say such untrue things about him. This next memory is as clear as day: Mom turned to my sister and asked, again, if this was true. My sister was quiet for a moment, then put her head down and slowly slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor with her head on her knees. Then she said:”no, it never happened, I lied.” Then mom turned to me, she had a look on her face like she had won, she asked me again: “Did this really happen or did you lie?” Me, I wanted it to stop and I had been standing up to my mother since the day I was born. I said, “Yes, it happened.” She called me a liar, and that was that. It didn’t happen. I was about 11-12 at that time. My sister was around 15. My mom didn’t like me before this, but after this, she hated me. Dad started back molesting us a couple weeks later. Mom had to know where he was going when he left her bed in the middle of the night, but chose to ignore it. I never blamed my sister for what happened. Even at the time, when she gave in and said she lied, I didn’t blame her. She did what she had to, to survive. What I did blame her for was when he started molesting us again, he would go to her bed and she would tell him that if he didn’t leave her alone she would tell mom. So then, he would come to my bed, (we shared a room at this time) and she never said a word. My coping mechanism was to always “go to sleep” when this happened, so I couldn’t tell him to stop. She knew what was happening to me, but she never said a word.