Below is the second letter in the series, “Letters To Dad.” They are written by Sam Riviera, and are based on the true stories of people he actually knows in real life. This letter is from a woman named Amy, who is now an adult (Amy is not her real name).
In case you do not know, “Boosting” means stealing. “Doing me” means molesting her. “Ice” is meth. “Ice Queen” means she is sexually frigid and can never have a sexual relationship with a man. She is not a lesbian. “Ice Queen” also means she is doing well enough stealing to buy all the ice she wants.
Dad,
You are probably hoping I’m dead, but I’m not. Ignore the postmark on the envelope. Wherever it says, it’s not where I am. A friend on a cross-country trip promised to mail this letter several states away from me. The most I’ll tell you is that I’m nowhere close to you and it’s going to stay that way. Permanently.
Oh yeah, I have a new name and identity. Once I got a birth certificate with a new name, the rest was easy. So don’t bother looking for me. I don’t exist anymore, at least not by the name you know. Even if you could somehow find me, you won’t do it before I turn eighteen. Then you can’t ever make me do anything I don’t want to. Never again.
The money I had saved ran out a few weeks after I took off. Then I hooked up with a couple of people on the road. They’ve taught me how to survive. We’re luckier than most. We don’t have to sell ourselves to dirty, perverted old men. We rip ‘em off. Boosting is the name of the game.
You gave me an education too. That’s what you called it, right? How stupid did you think I was even when I was little? I didn’t need your brand of education.
“Readin’, writin’, and ‘rithmatic.
Taught to the tune of a hickory stick.”
You thought I wouldn’t remember what you sang when you were doing me when I was eight? I remember. Every stinking detail.
Are you doing the same stuff to my sisters? Maybe your sheriff will be getting an anonymous letter one of these days tipping him off. Maybe the neighbors and the church people will be getting some anonymous letters too. It would serve you right.
I’m not asking for an apology. Never will. You’re not capable. I wouldn’t believe you if you apologized. You wouldn’t mean it. No matter how many times you said you’re sorry it wouldn’t make any difference.
But you’re not sorry, are you?
I still wonder though … Why did mom think you took me out to your workshop in the garage several times a week? How could she not know what was going on? She was afraid of you, wasn’t she? That’s why she never came out to the garage.
Whatever. You’ll never see me again. You’ll never know my name. You’ll never know where I am or what I’m doing. But you should always be looking over your shoulder. Maybe that car door closing out front is the sheriff getting out of his car to come get you because I’ve decided to testify against you.
Maybe, just maybe, I keep in touch with someone who’s keeping an eye on you. If I ever, ever hear you’ve been touching my sisters or any other kid you can bet your ass you’ll see me again. On the witness stand at your trial.
In the meantime I’ve moved on. I’m doing just fine, thank you. I’d be doing just fine living under a bridge so long as it was nowhere close to you.
Keep yourself out of prison, old man.
The Ice Queen, formerly known as Amy
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T1akbiPXyDU
“Snow Queen” was written by Goffin, Gerry/king, Carole /.
High on her snow covered mountain
From her throne she looks down at the clowns
Who think youth can be found in a fountain
High on the wings of her rhythms
She will smile at the guys who come on
With their eyes but she’ll never dance with them
And in smoke filled rooms of electric sound
A legend is built around the Snow Queen
You may believe you’re a winner
But with her you’ll soon bite the dust
And discover you’re just a beginner
You may not think you’re a loser
But in mid-air you’ll be hung while
You trip on your tongue and it’ll only amuse her
In the morning haze you are frozen there
Caught in the icy stare of the Snow Queen
No my friend she doesn’t want what you’re selling
Go my friend there must be a place you can hide
And into the night you’ll fade knowing you’ve lost the game
And just how she got the name of the Snow Queen
Jose, thanks for putting up that link. I had that song in mind and its parallel to Amy’s story.
The letters in this series tell the stories of homeless and runaway teens. Some ran away. Some were abandoned by their families. Some were thrown out of their homes by their parents.
This series will partially answer these questions: Why are they on the street? How do these underage kids survive? (Most of them are too young to get a legitimate job.) If we are parents of troubled teens, if we disagree with who they are or the choices they are making, should we disown them and throw them out of our homes? What will happen to them on the street? Is there another way?
The series will tell the stories of approximately twenty teens. As my friends said “These are dark stories.” Yes, they are. These kids live in the shadows. There are tens of thousands of them, hundreds of thousands of them. Do their stories tug at our heart strings? As followers of Jesus, is there anything we can do to help these kids?
In the near future we will put up a post with links to sites that give more information about homeless and runaway teens, and give us more insight into why they’re on the street, how they survive and how we can help them.
“In the near future we will put up a post with links to sites that give more information about homeless and runaway teens, and give us more insight into why they’re on the street, how they survive and how we can help them.”
Good, I’ll look forward to hearing more. There is a distinct ministry here, one that doesn’t
receive a lot of press coverage; yet we know they are there. As we near the end of the age as we know it, the unsaved whom only the Father can call (Matthew 22:14; John 16:3), have filled the
avenues as a reminder of how far from holiness we are as a whole.
As time crescendos into hellish oblivion, I pray the Lord doesn’t tarry too long; and gathers to Himself every last person He intended to — before the foundation of the world.