"When my daddy lived here, I never worried
When my daddy lived here, he read me stories
And I never was afraid when the endings were scary
'cause my daddy would say, "I will keep you safe girl
When the wolf comes to the house"
I never will understand why he left . . . why he left me there. I know why he did. She won custody; it was back in the days when Mother was heavily favored in any divorce case. Back before society realized that women could be just as incompetent as men in childrearing abilities. There really wasn't anything he could do; the law dealt him a crappy hand, and there was no bluffing his way around it. He couldn't throw down his one weekend a month and every other holiday in hopes for a better deal. I know that; but, even so, logically knowing something and emotionally comprehending it are oceans of tears apart. I have always known I was a smart child. After my parents' divorce, I buried myself in books and learning. Itried to fill my brain with anything and everything to keep my thoughts from my father, from my old family; Itried to stuff enough knowledge in me to fill the hole of my father's absence. The longer we lived apart, the farther we drifted apart. The older I got, the more I missed him, and the less I could remember those nights he used to read me to sleep, safe in his arms.
"Now my mother has a boyfriend, she let him move in
She let him tell her she's just a fool and
I've heard them fighting, I heard him knock her down
And I try to read at night, but I don't like it now'cause when the wolf lives in your house
You can't get him out"
I can easily trace my evolution from bright happy child to sullen little girl. It's less obvious to pinpoint the exact deterioration of my security. When my father left, I read obsessively for paradoxical reasons; on one hand I thought I could fill my brain with enough knowledge to push my father out, get rid of those memories and thus the pain of his leaving. On the other hand, reading reminded me of him; it was almost like my security blanket: most of my memories of my father being him holding me at night reading to me, and me feeling safe. But when He moved in, everything changed. It was a tension in the air; I could almost smell it thickening my nostrils as I inhaled. I was young, but not naive. I learned to breath quietly, walk quietly, live quietly. I disappeared into my surroundings. By the time I had discovered how to live invisibly, I had lost my father and his security completely. I spent my nights and my days yearning to forget the fighting, the yelling, the insults; I had no energy left for fairy tales anymore.
"And my mother tells me we are a family
But I don't want to be, I have a plan
Yes, I am waiting for the day when I am stronger
And I will step in the way
I will make him sorry
When the wolf lives in your house
You can't get him out"
I know exactly when I decided things had to change; I was eight years old, and He had been living with us for a couple years. Thursday, September the seventh. The date the invisible girl removed her shroud; the date He proposed to my mother. She didn't even ask me what I thought, just told him, "Yes." I could tell by the look in his eyes he would devour us both; I could see him licking his canines and salivating. I screeched, "You'll never be my father." I have no recollection of why; perhaps I had no reason, was just a hurt and scared little girl. That night He thrashed my mother to punish me; the whole time bellowing about her disrespectful brat. The worst part was there was nothing I could do. I was just a skinny pale girl, sixty pounds of hate and fear and guilt. I knew I couldn't overpower him. When I got older, I battled withshame because I didn't call the police or a hotline; but, looking back, I didn't even know they existed. They were outside my realm. I just knew one day I would get bigger; I would be smarter. I never spoke out to him again. I never spoke to him again. I went to school, immersed myself in learning again. I gained a brash look in my eye that he feared; he knew better than to ever lay a hand on me. And as powerful as that made me feel on the outside, on the inside I knew I needed to save my mother. So I delved deeper into academia, earned a full ride to college. I knew from the first day of Law 101 I had finally found my weapon. When I finally graduated law school, the first case I wanted to prosecute was His, but I couldn't even convince my mother to press charges. I immersed myself in white collar crime, just as in my youth, working fervently on emotionless cases trying to erase the turbulence of my childhood and my mother's inability to let me help her. And it was working, sort of. Then Arthur Branch had his brilliant realization that I should be the next SVU Assistant District Attorney.