“I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Well you have, Coralie. You’ve broken my damn heart. I can see it within myself to forgive you, though. It’s important for us to strengthen our relationship and move forward, don’t you think?”
“Of course. That’s really important.”
“Good. Then let’s make it happen. You tell me who it was that did this to you, and we’ll move on.”
“What?” I barely choke the word out. He wants to know, so he can go and murder them in their beds, no doubt.
“Neither of us can move on until the person who mislead you can be punished, Coralie. I won’t be able to forgive you until you’ve confessed every single sin you’ve committed. I need to know what he did to you, where he touched you, how he touched you. Every last detail. You have to tell me, and then I’ll make everything all right.” He sounds incredulous, like this should be obvious to me. Like it makes perfect sense that he would need me to go through this with him.
“I don’t think I can, Daddy,” I say softly.
“Why not?” Anger creeps into the edges of his tone. He narrows his eyes at me, leaning forward so I can see that he has a burst bloody capillary in his right eye. Must have been from when he was screaming at me so hard.
I have to tread lightly. God, I have to measure and weigh every single word that comes out of my mouth. I scramble, trying to think of some way to make this situation okay. I’m not telling him about Callan. No way. For close to two years now, we’ve been so careful. I haven’t mentioned his name. I haven’t looked sideways at him. I’ve done nothing to draw attention to him, to even give my father the impression that I know he exists. I’m not going to volunteer the information freely now, that’s for sure. I’d rather take another beating myself.
Fuck! What the hell should I say? What the hell can I possibly say that will be acceptable in my father’s eyes?
Something comes to me, but it’s not an easy deception. “I was attacked,” I whisper. “I was walking home from school one night and someone grabbed me from behind.”
My father squints at me. This clearly wasn’t what he expected me to say. It’s not what he wanted me to say. He wants a culprit for this crime, this perceived disrespect that has been dealt him. Almost beating me to death hasn’t been enough. He wants someone else to pay the price, too. “What do you mean, you were attacked?”
“It was dark. I was coming back from the library and I had my headphones in. I didn’t hear anyone following me. I should have been paying attention, but I was thinking about my exams, and—
“What did he do to you?” I can’t tell if he’s already seen through my lie, or if he’s growing angry at the prospect of someone accosting me on the street. He’s grinding his teeth together like he’s set on milling them to dust, though.
“He put his hand over my mouth. I couldn’t scream. He…he put his hand up my shirt.” I start crying. It’s vital that he believes I went through a traumatic experience. The tears come quick and easy.
“What then?” he demands.
I spin a tale of struggle and violence. I make it sound horrific and torturous. My father twitches on the edge of my bed, absorbing everything I say until my story is over. I hold my breath, waiting to see if he’s about to snap and trash the room. Standing up, he runs his hands through his hair, hissing. He paces back and forth. “You should have told me when it happened,” he snaps.
“I know. I felt ashamed. I…I was humiliated. And I didn’t want to upset you.”
He says something next that stuns me. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Coralie. You shouldn’t have felt that way. You’re good and pure. Innocent. I always knew you were,” he says, wagging a finger at me. “I always knew you were a good girl. If you’d have said something right away, I could have killed the fucker, though. I’m your father. You know you can tell me anything. It’s my job to protect you.”
If I weren’t scared out of my mind, I’d be laughing hysterically right now. He’s been the only thing I’ve ever been afraid of for such a long time. He’s the one who’s repeatedly hurt me, year after year after year. He’s the one who’s had me waking up in a cold sweat for as long as I can remember, terrified that he was there finally, lurking in my room, waiting to emerge from the shadows.
“I know, Daddy. I’m so sorry,” I stammer. “I was just so confused. And…and I’ve been scared ever since.”
He fumes as he paces. “And you didn’t see his face? You have no idea what he looks like?”
I shake my head. “It was dark. He was behind me the whole time.”