At times, my guilt would overwhelm me to the extent of becoming suicidal.
But thank God I relayed my message through the closed door.
When the timer went off, I realized I didn't know where the potholders were, so I ran upstairs, knocked on my parents' bedroom door, and asked, 'Where are the potholders? But the worst part was my great-grandfather yelling after me, 'What?! I was afraid of this rage because, as a child, my parents' anger often resulted in violence.
My father never physically forced me to participate sexually with him until my mid-teens.