I’ll never forget the day she came home. I opened the door and she was just standing there with bags in her hands and sunglasses shielding her eyes. It had been raining all day, but I didn’t mind. I threw my arms around her and she winced. All I could think of was at least she was home. At last I could keep her safe now.
She didn’t want to take her sunglasses off, she couldn’t have been able to see, but I didn’t want to pester her so I left her to it, which was always my problem. Not wanting to lose her. I almost did, about a month or so before.
She was rubbing the marks on her wrists, from the handcuffs, which were concealed under her long sleeves. She said the officers didn’t take too kindly to what she had been accused of, and they didn’t apologise when they found out that the allegations were all lies – she would never have raised her hand, unlike her accuser, who was released without charge, and not even a caution – Justice!
I wondered just how many wounds, burns and bruises she was hiding from me. I poured her a cup of tea and sat in front of her. She reached for the sugar. I never made it sweet enough for her. As she stretched, her wrist became naked of her long sleeves that were the accessory of her secrecy. I saw the hospital identification tag, with her name and date of birth printed on it. The day I had so many hopes and dreams for my little girl. She was 19 on this day, and so far, none of these hopes or dreams had become a reality. Only nightmares for the both of us.
The last thing I wanted was for her to end up with someone like her father. End up like me. I tried to protect her. She wouldn’t listen. She never did. But that’s just what teenagers do, isn’t it?
I could have done more. I should have done more. I could have stopped her going out. Made her change schools, that’s where they were seeing each other. I could have taken her phone. But it turns out she had a secret one all along. I should have locked her in her room and locked all the windows. But then I’d be as bad as her father. He did all that, but it never stopped her.
She gets her stubbornness from me, he says. Je seems to think all her flaws come from her. Only the good stuff could ever come from him, in his eyes. She definitely has his temper. I’m surprised she was never in and out of prison like he was at her age. But she has a heart of Gold.
She told me she had never raised a hand, and never would, to her now ex-girlfriend. I know when she’s lying. That’s how I know it was the truth.
I’d dropped the teaspoon onto the table with a clatter, and she flinched and began shaking. It would take a lot to get used to her new anxiety disorder. The psychologist said that it was all to be expected after what she’s been through. I went to hug her, but she recoiled. I knew then, that things would never be the same.