Breaking Down: Not Right.

I winced when I felt his hand on my leg…again. I thought sitting on the couch watching tv was supposed to be a normal, comfortable thing. But it wasn’t. Not for me.
I felt his hand move around my back so that it was resting on my waist, his fingers wrapped into my belt loops.
I wanted to scream at him, to tell him this wasn’t right. I wanted to punch him in the face and cry my eyes out. I wanted all these things, but all I could do was stand up and say, “Um, I’m gonna go get some chips ok?
He nodded and as I stood up he let his hand brush my butt. I’m pretty sure he wanted it to seem like an accident. It wasn’t though. How did I know this? Because stuff like that was never an accident. Not when it came to him anyway.
I stood in the kitchen and stared at the back of his head. Why couldn’t I shove his hand away? Why couldn’t I do what I knew was right?
I sighed, grabbed a bag of BBQ chips and left the kitchen. It was time for more “father daughter bonding”. Yeah, right.

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