I stopped smiling when he laid his filthy hands on me.

I was only 7.
He told me to strip so that he could ‘feel.’

Mama knew, but I was the one beaten up.
At 14, two other cousins molested me too.

I hated dressing up. Girls at my age would put on the prettiest dresses, while I was busy hiding.

Mama celebrated when Papa passed.

She gained a free pass to the dating world again.

She would flirt with all kinds of men.

Some would molest me when she wasn’t around.

She would drag me along to what was masked as a Tai Chi session.

Where dirty old men lurk around.

Why me?

Until today, I’m still haunted. I hated humans; I grew afraid of anyone who came near me. Many times, I had to ask my ex to accompany me to a meeting because I would be terrified of meeting new people.

I lost count of the many times when I wished I had died with Papa.

Papa, where are you?