I saw him as he was then.
I had been sent home from school for fighting. It was stupid as far as fights go. Riley wouldn’t let me play with her. I only wanted her to be my friend. But she said I was weird.
I didn’t get sad.
I didn’t really feel anything.
I just wanted to hurt her.
I took ahold of her hair and yanked on it as hard as I could. I liked the way chunks of it gave way in my hand. I smiled when she screamed and started to cry.
The teacher pulled me off her, but I still had her hair wrapped around my hand. I wouldn’t let go.
Mommy had to come to pick me up. The principal said he was concerned about such violent behavior in a Kindergartner. Mommy had yelled at me. I didn’t really hear her. I just remembered how much Riley had cried. I could still hear it in my head.
But I felt guilty because I didn’t feel bad about it. Because I knew, deep down, I should feel ashamed.
When Daddy got home from his store, Mommy told him about what had happened. I expected him to get angry like Mommy.
I didn’t see Daddy much. He was always at his store in town. Or away on fishing trips. He didn’t spend a lot of time playing with me like other daddies did. Mommy said he was just really busy. And that he needed time away so he could distress. I didn’t know what that meant. But I didn’t like it.
Mommy thought her cuddles were enough. That I was happy as long as she told me that she loved me.
I was only five but I knew I didn’t care about that.
Not at all.
But that night Daddy came up to my room and sat down on my bed. I covered my face with my pillow, worried he would be angry.
“Layna,” he said softly, pulling the pillow away.
I was crying. I didn’t want to get into trouble. Riley deserved it!
“Do you want to tell me what happened today?” he asked. I loved looking at my daddy. He was handsome. Like a prince in a movie. Mommy said I looked like him. I liked when she said that.
“I had to come home early,” I mumbled, kicking my feet back and forth over the edge of the bed.
“Why?” he prompted.
“Because I pulled Riley’s hair.” I wouldn’t tell him all of it. Then I’d really get into trouble.
“That’s not all, is it, Lay?” How did he know? Mommy didn’t even know. Riley was crying too much to say anything.
I shook my head.
“What else did you do?” His voice was so quiet. He smiled. Encouraging. I scooted closer to him and he pulled me onto his lap. His strong arms hugging me.
I snuggled down into his chest and felt good. Daddy wasn’t mad at all. But he might be when I told him the rest.
“Tell me, Layna,” he ordered, his voice hard.
“I cut her,” I whispered.
“You did?” he whispered back, his eyes bright. Brighter than the sun.
“I took a pair of scissors and I cut her arm. She bled a lot. Then I pulled her hair.”
Daddy hugged me even tighter and he kissed the top of my head.
“Why did you do that?” he asked.
“Because I wanted to,” I admitted to Daddy the real reason.
“And how did that make you feel, Layna?”
I looked up at my big, strong daddy and I smiled. “I felt good, Daddy. Really good.” My face fell. “That’s wrong though. I shouldn’t feel good because I made Riley cry. Even though she’s mean and won’t let me play with her.”
I started to cry because I felt bad. So, so bad. I wanted to throw up.
“Shh, Lay, stop crying. She’s not worth your tears,” he scolded and I stopped, hiccupping and struggling to calm down.
“Mommy says—”
“Mommy doesn’t know everything, Lay. And sometimes people can do things because they feel good. And you shouldn’t be made to feel bad because of that. There’s nothing wrong with being who you are.” He sounded angry.
I was confused. I was always told hurting others and putting your hands on people in a mean way was wrong.
“But it’s not nice to make someone cry.”