It happened.

So it happened.
Out of the blue.
At night.
On July 5th.
When I was 9.

Before it happened.
I wore pink pajamas with bunnies on them.
Not knowing I was the chosen one.
I was given a treat.
Two grape popsicles.
I had to let one melt in a cup.
And wait.
He was on the phone.
A call from abroad.
Congratulating him for being a father.

Then it happened.
I was allowed to drink my melted popsicle juice.
I brushed my teeth.
Crawled into bed.
To fall asleep.
But sleep did not come.
He came.
He came as a father.
To kiss me good night.
Or so I thought.
It did not stop there.
It went on.
He went in.
I fought.
And it went on.
I cried.
And it went on.
I closed my eyes.
And he went on.
I struggled.
And he went on.
I went numb.

After it happened.
He was done.
He woke me up.
From my numb sleep.
He asked me to get up.
To clean up.
The blood. The dirt. The guilt.
To change the sheets.
And then he brushed his teeth.
Crawled into his bed.
Smiled and said good night.