Watching Law & Order SVU today, again.
Got me thinking. They tell people to not blame themselves. but I still do.
It was after my moms suicide attempt, almost a year later. I was at my dads house, around christmas, 16 years old. my sister and her boyfriend were pushing my dad around, buying his silence with booze and threats. He was terrified of her boyfriend. So was everyone else. I couldn't decide who I was more afraid of, him or her. I was heavier [as she so often reminded me] but I'm not one for fighting. I can, but I don't like to. probably because of her. but that's another blog, for another time. They had a friend living there. I don't even know his real name.
My sister had alcohol, decided we would get drunk. She gave my dad a bottle and he stayed upstairs. We drank, smoked pot, and drank some more. She kept giving me more. I was so messed up I couldn't move.
They left me downstairs, with the friend of theirs. I tried to say no, but it wasn't the loud assertive no it should have been, but a drunken whimper. And... it happened. my first time. drunk and stoned in a dirty basement with someone I didn't know, or want to. On an orange couch that probably belonged in the 70s. My eyes closed, wanting this not to be happening. Thinking how awful was I to let this happen. And everyone upstairs, oblivious.
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