Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Was it warm and sunny, or rainy and gray? Did he get to go outside every day and for how long?
I scolded myself for wondering and turned away from the window. Thinking those kinds of thoughts would only lead me down a dark and depressing rabbit hole. I’d diligently cultivated my anger so as not to let the pain of his absence affect me. It was hard to believe we’d once been so close that I couldn’t imagine my life without him.
He’d been my sole caretaker from the very beginning. My mom died a few months after I was born, stolen from us by a weakened heart muscle that ended her life way too soon. I could only imagine the devastation and panic he must’ve felt, having lost his wife and become a single parent to an infant virtually overnight. But he didn’t let grief get in the way of raising me right. Of course, Uncle Logan and my grandparents stepped up to help, but Dad always made a point to be there when I needed him. I looked up to him. He worked hard to give us a good life in Eureka, and while he allowed his brother to spoil me on special occasions, he insisted on supporting us with the money he’d earned from running his own business.
My dad was proud, but also loving. He encouraged me to believe in myself and not to let other people’s opinions about me dictate my self-worth. He was protective of me.
Too protective, in the end.
I sat back on the chaise and gazed down at my soft belly rolls and plump thighs. I’d been mercilessly bullied for being fat all through middle school and early high school. My efforts to rise above the snide comments worked half the time, but the hardened shell I’d built around my self-esteem could only take so much abuse before it cracked. One guy in particular made it his mission to tell me exactly how un-fuckable he found me every time we crossed paths. He and his friends would harass me in the halls, on the school bus, and especially in the cafeteria.
In hindsight, his obsession with my body probably stemmed from his own self-hatred, or his rich parents’ perfectionism, or a secret attraction to big girls. Maybe he was just a dick. Whatever his reasoning, it wasn’t on me to understand or excuse his behavior. He’d certainly never tried to empathize with me.
For years, I kept the bullying a secret from my family, too ashamed to admit how deeply some asshole’s words had affected me. Then one day, that asshole thought it would be hilarious to film an upskirt video of my ass as I was walking up the stairs. By the time fourth period rolled around, it seemed like everyone had seen the video. Some people recognized it for the violation that it was, but just as many used it as an excuse to laugh at the fat girl in the blue thong.
After faking a headache so I could go hide in the nurse’s office, I called my dad and asked him to take me home. I was barely holding it together by the time he picked me up. He could immediately tell that something was wrong. When he asked what happened, I finally broke down crying in his arms and told him about the bullying and the boy who’d made the video.
I can still remember the cold, hard grit in his voice when he asked me, “What’s his name?” I told him, assuming he’d lodge a complaint with the school or call the guy’s parents. If I’d known he would use the information to track the kid down and confront him in person, I never would have said anything.
As it turned out, my bully’s dad was a regular customer at my dad’s auto body shop. After taking me home, he went back to the shop to look up their address. Dad waited outside my bully’s house for him to get off the bus and then ambushed him. According to the police report, he took the kid’s smartphone, then started pushing him. The kid tripped and fell onto the ground where my dad proceeded to beat the ever-loving shit out of him, breaking his jaw and fracturing his orbital bone.
A neighbor witnessed the altercation and called 911. My dad was arrested on the scene; he didn’t try to run. Uncle Logan flew up immediately and hired the best lawyer money could buy. But even that wasn’t enough to stop him from getting locked up.
Later, my dad told the judge that he hadn’t intended to hurt the kid, only scare him a little. But rage over what’d happened earlier that day had clouded his judgment.
I attended the sentencing hearing but refused to speak to my father. While part of me understood why he’d snapped, I couldn’t forgive him for not thinking about how his actions would affect us. He was sentenced to a minimum of six years in prison for aggravated assault and robbery.