Daddy’s little girl

“Daddy’s little girl” is what my mom called me throughout my childhood. “Julia loves her daddy,” she would say. I think she loved that I was so attached to him. She was married to my father for 25 years. High school sweethearts. They met each other at 16, and from then on, it was history. The love they had for each other was surreal. My mother was still starstruck by him to this day. She would say how she would die for him. She loved him more than she loved herself, I think. He knew that about her, and he romanced her every day. Bouquets of flowers and spontaneous vacations, he was always spoiling her. I think there’s a danger to loving someone that much. Once love comes at such a strong force, it becomes a weapon. I can’t help but be fearful of it.

My dad gave me everything I wanted when I was younger. I cried whenever he went to work, and I’d be the first to run to the door when he returned. Every night he played me the guitar, and he’d sing a little song he made about me. “Julia my darling, Julia my love, purest of them all and precious as a dove, my sweet sweet Julia.” It was my favorite song; I would sing it with him whenever he brought his guitar into my room.

When I was 10 years old, my father gave me a necklace for my birthday. Ruby red heart surrounded in gold. “A jewel for my Juls,” he said, “whenever you wear this jewel, I want you to remember that daddy loves you.” Sometimes I wonder if I had anything to do with what happened. Maybe I laid out a pathway that was always leading up to this. I’m regretful of so many days. I miss being 10 years old and innocent.

When I turned 12, I got my first period. “You’re a woman now, Julia,” my mother told me. “You’re no longer my little baby.” I wish I knew what that had really meant when she said it. My dad brought home lilacs, my favorite flower. He always knew how to brighten my mood. I don’t know why, but growing up made me scared.

I questioned myself a lot. Sometimes I would wonder if I was really as beautiful as my parents told me I was. “My beautiful Julia, you shine just as bright as the jewel around your neck,” my dad would say. “Look how pretty you are!” My mom said this every time I wore my berry lip gloss that gave my lips a rosy pink tint. Her words never resonated.

When I was at school, I’d see all these pretty girls that the guys would fawn over. My name was never written on the bathroom stalls “hottie” list. I would stare at my freckled face in the mirror and stare myself down with my icy blue eyes. Should I dye my hair? I pondered. Maybe my waves being such a dark brown made me look too pale. Id hear of girls locking lips in the change room and getting fondled behind bleachers but I was never a prospect.

I didn’t get a lot of attention from boys. Boys started to become a serious thing around my school when I turned 14. I was in the 8th grade, and half my friends already had boyfriends. Valentine’s Day was the worst day because I was never anyone’s crush. I never got a rose during the delivery. In my second year of high school, I was even more nervous about Valentine’s Day because I knew it was an even bigger deal now than before. “Do you think you’re going to get something?” My friend would ask “Do you?” I replied deflecting. I never thought I was going to get anything.

The Valentine’s Day messenger dressed as Cupid came into the class with his partner and started handing out roses. “Look what we’ve got here! A big bouquet of roses and a big ol teddy bear” all the girls looked around eagerly hoping it was for them.

“I wonder who the lucky girl is” he asked as he opened the card. “Julia, it’s for you” he said smiling.

I never felt so shocked about anything in my life. I opened the card and it read, “To my Juls, daddy loves you! Make everyone jealous from these gifts” My heart was so happy, and everyone was so curious to know who it was from. It was moments like these that made me so grateful for my parents. I wish I could say the same today. Everything changed on my sixteenth birthday. That age was the age I changed as a whole and so did everything around me. I was fully developed and looked a lot more mature.

Sixteen was when I started to see how pretty I really was. One day, my friends Alyssa and Laura came over to swim in my pool. My parents liked to make treats and drinks whenever I had friends over and bring them to the backyard. I noticed my dad staring at my neck as I grabbed myself a cup of lemonade.

Where’s your necklace, Juls?” he asked. My heart stopped when I looked down and realized it was no longer on my neck.

“It’s at the bottom of the pool!” Laura shouted, popping up with the gleaming heart in her hand.

“Oh, thank God,” I replied. My dad watched me as I tried to snap the necklace back around my neck.

“Let me help you with that,” he said.

As I look back at memories like this one, I start to pick up on things I would’ve never noticed in the moment. Like the way he put it around my neck and the way he watched me swim.

I loved my father very much. I don’t think I trusted anyone the way I trusted him. I came home from my school dance one night after my mother had picked me up. She had taken about 500 photos of me that day. My dad wasn’t there when I got dressed, so he hadn’t seen my outfit.

My mom was exhausted when we got home and quickly went to bed.

“Can I come in?” I heard from behind my bedroom door following a knock.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Wow, you look beautiful, Julia!” my dad said, referring to my dress.

“Not anymore, I took my makeup off,” I replied with a chuckle.

“Aww, be quiet.” he said.

“Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Yeah, it was great.”

“Did you hang out with any boys?”

“DAD.”

“What? I’m just asking. I mean, you’re 16 now, you’re in high school, and you’re a beautiful girl, so I know this is the time where the crushes turn to boyfriends,” he explained.

“No boyfriends over here,” I replied as I took my earrings off and placed them in my jewelry box.

“Good, I don’t think I’m ready for another boy to have your heart just yet,” he replied.

“You’ll always be the number one man in my heart, Dad,” I said dramatically while clenching my jewel necklace and fake wiping a tear.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Maybe this is what started it.

“Ok, I’m gonna change and get ready for bed now,” I said.

“Alright,” he replied, turning around.

I started undressing facing towards my dresser and rummaged my drawer for my pajamas. I looked behind me and noticed my shorts were on the other side of my bed. I heard my door slowly creak open, and my dad was there again. I jumped because I was only in a bra and underwear when he popped in, and it threw me off.

“I just came back to say good night,” he said. “I’m not dressed,” I reply flustered, covering my body with my shirt.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m your dad; you don’t need to cover anything in front of me,” he replied.

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand but then quickly settle. I must be overthinking the situation.

Around 1 am that night, I was on my laptop watching Netflix shows when my father came back into my room. This time, I didn’t hear him come in. He came up, bent down beside my bed.

“It’s a little too late to be on your computer, Juls,” he said in a low voice, causing me to jump.

“Oh, I couldn’t sleep,” I replied.

I couldn’t explain to you why I was nervous in this moment, but my heart felt unsettled.

“Let’s turn off the laptop and get ready for bed,” he said.

He then reached over me and closed my laptop slowly, stopping his hand at my necklace on his way to putting his arm back in place.

“You were so young when I gave you this,” he said. “You didn’t even have these yet,” he said, referring to my chest, his large hand cupping my boob and squeezing. I felt frozen in place; I didn’t know what or why this was happening. He then kissed down my neck slowly before telling me to have a good night.

This was the first of many nightmares. I was so afraid to talk about it. I was afraid to even think about it. I tried to ignore it and pretend it never happened. The rest of that week went by, and nothing happened. He was just my father who I loved having around and not the man who lay in my bed that night.

It was my father’s birthday the next weekend, and my mom had thrown him a huge party. Later in the night, all the kids at the party had gone home, and there were only adults left downstairs drinking and chatting in the living room. I had left and gone upstairs to take a shower while the adults did their thing. I stood in the steamy hot water, singing and washing my hair, feeling as relaxed as I could ever be when I felt a sudden draft waft over my body. I quickly rinsed the soap off of my face and looked over to see my shower door was slid open and my father standing there. My heart stopped.

“I could hear your singing from the hallway,” he said.

I stood there with fear in my eyes, shaking from the draft with my hands covering my body.

“You don’t have to cover up in front of me,” he said. “We’re family.”

He walked towards me, and I felt my heart rate start to pick up. He reached over and slowly moved my hands from covering myself.

“JOHN!” My mom shouted from the living room.

“Duty calls,” he said, smiling before his exit.

I thought this day was the worst, but I was mistaken. At 12 am on Sunday, the day after his party and the day of his actual birthday, was when I hit rock bottom. Even though deep down I knew I had done nothing wrong, I felt like everything was happening because of something I did. Perhaps it was the butterfly effect. Maybe I had unintentionally led him on, or maybe I was trying to make sense of the situation to justify his actions.

My mom entered my room and woke me up to come down to the kitchen to sing happy birthday to my dad early the next morning and make him eggs Benedict for breakfast. “I have the best family,” my father said with a smile before kissing my mother’s forehead. “You’re the best husband and father I could have ever asked for.” I wondered if she would rethink that statement if she knew what he had done.

“Thank you for giving me the best years of my life,” he told her, “and for giving me my beautiful daughter,” he added, walking over and squeezing me tightly.

I could feel him getting aroused through his trousers as he pressed against me. My mom was preoccupied with cleaning and didn’t notice. His hand gripped my buttocks, causing me to tense up. I wanted to scream, but I remained silent.

As soon as the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, a wave of anxiety washed over me. I had never experienced anything like it before. It felt as though I knew that going home this time would be the worst experience of my life. That night, I heard a knock on my door, but I didn’t respond out of fear. The door creaked open, and my dad entered, shutting the door behind him. My mother felt unwell and had gone to bed early. “Hey, baby girl,” he said. Those words now held a different meaning. I ignored him and pretended to be asleep, but it didn’t work. He climbed into my bed and lay beside me.

“You don’t have to pretend to be asleep. You can stay up late tonight since it’s a holiday,” he chuckled, referring to his birthday.

“I have an idea for what you can give me as a birthday present,” he whispered in my ear.

“Please stop and leave,” I replied. “I already gave you a present.

I just want to sleep, please let me sleep.” “Shhh,” he said, covering my mouth.

“It’s okay, I promise.” He pulled me close to him, his arm wrapped around my chest, squeezing my breast with his other hand in my shorts, touching my private area. I could barely breathe during this moment. I felt nauseous. I could feel his arousal against my back as he whispered, “Daddy loves you. You’re my little girl forever.” I felt trapped.

That night, I didn’t fall asleep. I was so shaken that every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. I didn’t want this to go on anymore.

When I got home from school, I saw my mom in my father’s home office and went in there to tell her everything so she could make it stop.

“It’s happened 3 times now,” I explained.

“Julia, didn’t I teach you better than to lie?” she said, shaking.

“I’m not lying, Mom. He touched me.”

“SHUT UP!” she yelled.

“Why don’t you believe me? I’m your daughter!” I screamed, crying.

“You’re a whore!” she yelled, chucking a book from the shelf behind her at me. “I never want to hear you say those words to anyone EVER, do you understand me?” I stood there frozen in shock as tears spilled down my eyes. “DO YOU?!?!” she yelled.

“Yes,” I replied.

I was so thrown and afraid that I didn’t know what to do. Was I wrong? Maybe it didn’t happen and I just… I don’t even know anymore, but I need help. My dad had come home soon after while I was quickly packing my bags, trying to escape. I heard my mom speaking to him, and I tried my best to rush, but as I opened my door to leave, he was there and he pushed me back into my room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. “Why did you say those things to your mother? I’ve never done anything you didn’t want me to do. I would never do anything to hurt you, Julia.”

In that moment, I felt outraged.

“I did not want you to touch me!” I screamed. “I told you to go away.”

“Quiet down, Julia. You’re making a fool of yourself,” he said with a snarky attitude. “Touch you? Your mom touches you too… people touch people, Julia. Why are you being dramatic?”

“You touched me in inappropriate places!”

“I never did any of those things. What’s inappropriate? You’re my daughter! Why are you lying?”

“Fuck you! You’re disgusting. I’m getting out of here,” I said, running towards my door.

He ran in front of me, blocking my way, and pushed me down on the ground, pressing himself on top of me.

“Daddy’s little girl can’t leave,” he said in a low, taunting voice. Even in that moment, I could feel him aroused, pressed against me.

“I love you,” he said. I started screaming at the top of my lungs, trying to alert someone, anyone. My mother barged into the room, and my dad started holding me down by my arms, yelling at me to relax.

“She hit me, Marg. She’s losing her mind! She said you tried to kill her and that I tried to rape her! She’s getting out of control and she said she’s going to lie to the police about us and ruin my campaign for mayor. Call the cops!”

My mother acted swiftly, dialing 911 without hesitation. “Hello, 911. My daughter is lashing out, and we need help. Send Officer Daniels to the household of John Mackerel. We need to keep this under wraps.”

And that’s exactly what they did.

I was committed and medicated for two weeks before finally being released to go back home. Security shadowed my every move, leaving me with nowhere to run. I cut ties with friends, feeling like the person I once was had perished. The police, familiar with my father, dismissed any claims I made. I was trapped in my own personal hell.

Night after night, my father invaded my room, his actions escalating as I grew older. He went beyond mere touching, coercing me into unspeakable acts. On my 18th birthday, he callously robbed me of my virginity without consent. From then on, until I graduated high school, he visited my room each night to satisfy his depraved desires.

Now, at 25 years old, I am finally able to muster up the courage to share the story of my personal hell. The man you know today as your mayor turned my teenage years into a nightmare. I couldn’t escape his grasp until I left for college, and even then, I was still shattered. Every aspect of my being grew stale, and even the slightest human contact would plunge me into a fragile, painful state that pushed everyone away. This is a tell-all story about John Mackerel, YOUR mayor – a man who gifted me a red jewel necklace that symbolized his control over me. He made it clear every day that this necklace was a sign of his love for me. The man who robbed me of my innocence is a monster.

As she closes the book, the audience rises from their seats in awe, applauding her bravery. Cameras roll as she becomes emotional. A solemn expression crosses her face as she approaches the microphone.

“I believe my father is involved in the child trafficking case that has recently come to light, and I have evidence implicating your mayor in heinous crimes. I have the proof to back it up.”

News reports buzz with activity, and the audience is left in disbelief. Questions fly in every direction as Jules absorbs the moment she has finally been heard.