Crashing into a Tree

Dear Daddy,

You are my superman. You have been there to protect me since I was in mommy’s stomach. You were there the day I took my first breath, and you’ve been there every single day since. My first word was ‘dada’ and you were the first person to hear it. I took my first steps as you held my little hands. I fell right on my face, but you picked me right back up.

You were the person that taught me how to ride a bike. I got on the bike and you held the pink, sparkly handles so I wouldn’t crash. You ran right beside me all the way down to corner. I told you not to let go, and you said you wouldn’t. I was pedaling as hard as I could and I looked back. You let go. I crashed right into a tree.

I grew up. I’ve had an old man, about 80 years old, ask me to get naked in bed with him. I’ve had another man, the same age as you dad, tell me I was hot as he stared at my breasts. I’ve had a boy, nearly 18, move his hand farther and farther up my thigh, until it found it’s destination. I’m fifteen. You let go of the bike, dad. I crashed into a tree.