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My father stares at my body

It's been two years since I learned about my father's name, the reason for his absence in my life, and my parents' ill-fated relationship. ... A tear fell down my cheek, yet my body looked calm compared to how tangled my mind was. My eyes were locked on the floor, unable to look him in the eye. "I"—I cut myself short and bit my.

I walked back over to my father’s laptop, my fingers trembling. I cannot explain the anger I felt. I clicked on the naked picture of myself. Every single body part was exposed. My vagina, breasts, butt, and face. My head was turned to the right side, completely oblivious to my surroundings. My brown, medium-length hair was drenched wet. Is my dad sexualizing me or not really? So just some background information, I’m 22 now and my dad is around 65-68. He also had stokes around 5 years ago thats left him somewhat dependent on us to take care of him among other health issues. Before the strokes though, when I was a teenager, there were times were he did stare at my body a.

The Remington Rand was a dark gun, a heavy thing of war and a remembrance my father never talked about. It was always loaded, seven fat 230-grain thumb-sized .45 in its black steel magazine. "Can't hit a damn thing with it," he said, or, occasionally, "Hit you in the finger and knock you flat on your ass!".

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For 10 days my sister and I sat by his bedside, holding his hand, moistening his lips. Slowly his breathing changed, became more ragged. During the last few days, the tips of his fingers turned. Is my dad sexualizing me or not really? So just some background information, I’m 22 now and my dad is around 65-68. He also had stokes around 5 years ago thats left him somewhat dependent on us to take care of him among other health issues. Before the strokes though, when I was a teenager, there were times were he did stare at my body a.

My father, Richard Beaman, was a man of strong character. When I was growing up, he worked as an electrician during the day, and at night he attended law school, and on the weekends he worked construction. This guy had a strong work ethic. He was a powerful force of energy. If he wanted something, he set his sights on it and did not stop until.

It was the space you stood and waited while the door behind you was locked, and then the door in front of you was opened to your loved ones/inmates. It was prison purgatory. Staring through the glass, I found my father. He was already looking at me. He found my eyes and held onto them.

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