April 1986
So much blood…
I wasn’t sure what happened, but there he lay on the kitchen floor with a knife sticking out of his chest.
The blood pooled on the floor underneath him. It was so big…
Voices in the distance... screaming. I sat there, frozen, blood of my own all over me. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t speak. I just stare at the hate-filled face of my father as the blood continued to pool under him.
There was someone speaking, but it sounded like they were far away and the words were indistinct. I couldn’t blink. I felt hands on me and somehow I moved, as someone else threw something over my father’s body, hiding it from sight. I watched the house get smaller as I was taken away, but all I could process was the fact that my father stared at me as the blood drained from him, in a way that made me think he blamed me for it.
So much blood…
I didn’t realize he was dead. I’m not even sure I knew what that meant. I had never known anyone who died, I had never been exposed to it. So, my 6-year-old brain simply couldn’t wrap around any of it except the horror of the scene.
Someone said something, but I couldn’t understand it. Where did all the blood come from? Did everyone have that much?
Someone grabbed my face and, through a haze I saw blue eyes, but I couldn’t focus on them, my eyes were focused on his face. His scream still resonated through my ears, the sound of rage had been so primal, I thought he might attack her like an animal. But she stabbed him and he fell on the floor, grabbing hold of the knife. He yelled at her then, before reaching out to me and insisting that I come help him.
I was too afraid of him to get near him, as I had only just suffered at his hands when she came. She found him there, on top of me, with my nightgown piled up around my middle. I didn’t even realize I was still bleeding from his assault. I couldn’t even cry out anymore from the pain of his actions when she caught him. Mommy was so mad.
So much blood.…
I thought I felt something in my arm, thin and sharp. It hurt, but I couldn’t speak. Suddenly, I felt quite tired and lay down on a soft surface. I felt something warm wrap around me and someone began to stroke my back. My eyelids got heavier and heavier until I couldn’t open them back up.
So much blood…
It made such a huge puddle. Where did it all come from?
“...prolonged sexual abuse…”
"... permanent damage..."
Where did it all come from?
“… good case for justifiable…”
"... temporary insanity..."
So much blood…
“… so sorry…”
“How did I not see…”
Daddy hurt me...
"... going to take time..."
"... didn't know..."
Mommy killed him...
"... extensive therapy..."
"... will get better..."
So much blood…
Where did it all come from?
