A cool breeze swept their hair back and caressed the skin of the father and daughter. It was a sunny afternoon and there was still a winter chill in the air as the season transitioned from winter to spring. They laid on the smooth and lush fake grass as they made out shapes within the clouds and deconstructed fallen acorns. They talked about life and what she wanted to become. “Tell me your hopes and goals. What are you dreams Lilith?”, her father asked her, but her mind was blank, she felt as if she was blocked by a cloud in her head. A cloud that was at a constant brew, shapeshifting from an ash grey to mere black coal, soon to strike with lighting at any given moment.  

 “I don’t know”. It’s what she always said. It was her answer for everything. Your favorite type of music? I don’t know. Your favorite color? I don't know. Do you like this movie? I don’t know. Maybe this was because of that overcrowded cloud, or maybe it was her subconscious teaching her what distance was. I love you, do you love me? I don’t know she would think but always said it back, ignoring her internal dispute. The internal dispute she never understood because she could never think about her feelings. There was no space for thought.  

“Oh, you always say that sweetie! C’mon just tell me, what do you want to become when you grow up. When you enter middle school, high school, or get your first job. Sports? Art? You ever think about those things?”.  

She looked down and ripped the grass out of the ground, trying to avoid eye contact and get the point across that she did not want to talk anymore. “I don’t know Dad”. 

 “Okay, well let’s go walk. Here, keep this acorn to help you remember this day”. He was smart to give the acorn, for she will always remember that day every time she sees one. It was close to her birthday, so she was spoiled with gifts and treats like a golden, perfectly packaged bar of smooth and rich brown cocoa creaminess known as chocolate. Oh, how she loved the feel of soft, sweet nectarous chocolate on her tongue after walking around outside in her favorite weather. It was the mix for the perfect day --but it wasn’t. It never was. There was always an absence, something missing. Absence of connection. Absence of communication. Absence of comfort, or security. Absence of authenticity. And an absence of love.  

Two weeks had passed, and it was her father’s weekend to watch her again. Her heart pulsated throughout her body as she anxiously sat around, waiting for him to pick her up as she felt her stomach physically drop so hard that it hurt, like an anchor off a boat. She never knew why she felt this way, all she knew was she never wanted to go. Hiding tears at pickup became routine and begging her mother not to go became normal.  She didn’t want to ride in his car and lie about liking the music or talk about how school was “good”. She didn’t want to sleep in his bed and lie awake to yells and crashes coming from the living room. She didn’t want visits from his strange friends so foreign to her. She didn’t want to see empty bottles or weed laying on the counter with the smell of smoke and liquor mixed with orange juice in the morning. She didn’t want him.  

“So, what should we do this weekend? Grandparents' house? Your grandparents miss you.”  

“Okay,” she replied. Nothing more.  

She ignored how much she hated that house and getting holy water thrown on her every time she left because her step daddy back at her mom’s house was “the devil”, and she needed to be cleansed. Or the room. The bad room. That was its name ever since she was five. The bad room. It was all bad, from the holes punched in the wall from fists of frustration to the ugly blue floral sheets and walls consumed with bad dreams that turned into worse realities. Realities of scary nights and violent crimes with strange hands making strange moves, caressing what she had been told was hers to see and only hers.  

“Okay then, I’ll take you to Grandpa and Grandma’s house” her father said. 

Lilith’s father lost her shortly after the fifth grade. Shortly after the fifth grade Lilith blossomed. She fell in love with life. -- And art, and music, and movies. She liked things and talked about liking things. She no longer had bruises and scars, but she had goals and hopes. There was room for free thinking, understanding, and finding herself.  The uncontrollable storm cloud was finally at ease. 

Lilith grew up to be a writer. She wrote all about her childhood and trying to make sense of her struggles and the experience of growing up and realizing what she had lived through. Realizing just how wrong it was to be sexually abused by the one person meant to be a guide, her father. A father who never grew up. A father that “loves” you. A father that has your name permanently inked in their skin so that every time they look down, it’s your name they see. It’s your name that now reminds them on the daily of how he was, what he did, what he lost, and that he never got to say sorry. Lilith never chose to see her father again for the fear overpowered any good outcomes. But he may be gone, but never forgotten; no matter how much she wished he was. She learned to disregard the “What if I never told anyone” and live for the now. She learned to be cautious. She learned that it wasn’t her fault. And she learned to live for herself and not for others because a head full of fears has no space for dreams.