September of last year I had messaged my Uncle on Facebook asking if he knew the whereabouts of the letter. After telling my parents about my molestation, I decided to write my “Grandfather” a letter, which was to be mailed to my Uncle, who was going to pass it on to him. Imagine my surprise when my Uncle replied four days later saying that “I don’t think I ever saw this letter and if I did I don’t have a copy of it.” Bullshit. He was the appointed messenger. And I wrote that damn thing twice. So not only did he lie about ever seeing it, he then downsized my ten year ordeal to an incident. Isn’t an incident something like accidentally rear ending somebody in the parking lot of a shopping mall?
Okay, I guess then that letter has conveniently gone missing, swept under the proverbial rug of The Cultural Code of Silence. Surprise, surprise.
It’s a good thing I remembered what I wrote, huh?
I started off the letter with, “Do you remember the summer of 1994? I do. I remember everything. You have murdered my childhood.”
“I am writing this as a living corpse. I am numb. The only way I can feel alive is to put a blade to my skin and cut. The blood signifies that I am unfortunately still here.”
Then I made some points very clear to him.
– “I have told my parents.”
– “You will never see me again.”
– “I cannot wait to get married and take on a last name that I could be proud of.”
– “You will never meet my future husband and my future children.”
– “I am in prison for the rest of my life for your crime.”
– “I will never know what it will be like to lead a normal life.”
– “I pray you die alone. I pray you die slowly, just like how my death was.”
– “On the day of your death, I will smile and laugh. I will come to your funeral wearing the brightest colours to celebrate your impending arrival into Hell.”
My “family” can keep the original letter. It has probably collected a lot of dust anyway. I wonder what else is under there?
Nothing will stop me.
“Even if you are in the minority of one, the Truth is still the Truth.” – Mahatma Ghandi.