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I feel like you guys might know that this has been going on,” I said, “but if you don’t know what’s been going on, she’s been touching me for years and it makes me really uncomfortable and I don’t ever want to go back there.” I couldn’t undo it. It was done. My mother slapped my father’s arm with the back of her hand. “I told you something was happening,” she yelled at him. Neither turned to look at me. Dad kept his eye on the road and said nothing, his shoulders sunken. It didn’t surprise me that my mother knew. I already understood denial and how much it fueled the actions of families, especially Southern families. People want to paint the picture pretty, especially a minister’s family. They were probably also shocked. These good people who did everything to help others hadn’t been able to help their own daughter. “Hello?” I said. I expected them to say something to me. I wasn’t angry, I was just confused. I wouldn’t be angry about their silence until much later.
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