anyway? And that’s the worst hairdo I ever saw! Your mama still braid it for you?”
I just kept quiet, hung my head, and walked on by. But by the time I was fifteen, my resentment had grown until I hated my father with all my heart. He was still coming to my bed every night and beginning to make me do things that I couldn’t possibly believe were right. When I objected, he’d slap me hard across the face.
“I’m your father!” he’d roar. “You’ll do as I say!”
“Fathers aren’t supposed to do this with their daughters!” I said one afternoon. “I saw it on television the other day. They said it was something called incest and it isn’t right!”
“Don’t you tell me about what’s right!” he roared. “I know what’s right and if that’s the kind of stuff you’re going to watch, we’ll just unplug the TV until I can supervise your watching! Now, you’ll do as I say, and I don’t want to hear any more about it!”
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