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.
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