Daughter Monologue

A howling cry heard down the hall is where it started. My rosy cheeks stir as my mother holds me close to her warm breasts. The echo of footsteps approach the oversized white doors and everyone stares awaiting the next new father, hoping he’s a part of their family. “She’s here, Sacha’s here!” my father shouts. I am Sacha Desiree Rivera and that was the last time I saw my father. I guess it is all fun and glorious before the baby is born but when it is time to roll up the sleeves my father could not handle it. I think attempting to understand how a father could abandon a daughter is something I wish on no one. Though I have lived it and had to face the feelings of abandonment; I am who I am because I’ve overcome it. It is because of those feelings
That’s what my mom saw when she met my father. He was charming, tall, sweet with a slice of spicy. I saw a black jacket, jeans and work boots. No face, no charm, no smile, just his back. Occasionally, I saw a picture when I got older and social media became more prevalent. “Bloop, Bloop!” I remember seeing my message bubble blink and a small “1” appeared. I thought nothing of it and so I opened it. The message was from Santiago Rivera. My sperm donor, my “father”. I froze and closed out the browser and didn’t log on for at least a week. My mind went through so many scenarios before I could finally bring myself to open the message. When all was said, and done I didn’t open it. I clicked the little blue delete button and was done with the grief before it even started. I came to my own conclusion that he did not deserve to be heard. I was 16 years old already and had a father figure already. Someone who truly loved me. Though it was hard to overcome all those years of pondering and obsessing over why and how someone could leave their child when it came down to possibly being able to find out, I didn’t care anymore. I think deep down I didn’t need his validation because I figured out that it wasn’t about me or because of me that he left. It was because of him and his inadequacies that ultimately ruined whatever relationship we could’ve had. I used that experience and that realization to help others who
As peer counselors for the students in our high school we had great responsibilities. Everything said in the room was anonymous unless it was apparent that harm was to be done to self or others and if they were in a dangerous situation. We went through months of training to get to the point we were at and now we were there. Rachel was blonde, tall and slender. I had poorly dyed red hair, short and a lot skinnier than I am today. We were complete opposites but our friendship flourished in that grey dungeon. Later in the year we received more students in and everyday was something new and trying to uplift student’s spirits. One day we a student came in and her eyes were red and swollen and her clothes wrinkled and tattered. She just looked at us and cried and lifted her sweater to reveal fresh, horizontal streaks of wounds up her arms. They we so close and so long they resembled ladders on her arms. We calmed her down before alerting anyone because we knew she was safe with us and we could take our time because that’s what she needed. We sat in the room for an hour just hugging her and letting her cry. I’ll never forget the feeling of her fingers digging into my back because of how tight she was holding me. I didn’t care, if it were up to me I would let her cry on me all day. We helped that girl. We got the school involved and she came in every morning during homeroom to talk. She