Lilyan had heard people say that memories fade with time.
She wished that were true.
Some memories never faded. They waited quietly beneath the surface, returning when she least expected them.
The first memory she could never escape happened when she was seven years old.
She was spending the night at Nana’s house. She slept in what everyone called Uncle Joe’s old room. It was just another night, and she went to bed wearing her pajamas and underwear, believing she was safe.
Sometime during the night, Lilyan woke up.
Her father was leaning over the foot of her bed.
The moment he realized she was awake, he quickly pulled up her underwear. She had gone to sleep wearing them, so she knew he was the one who had pulled them down.
She was only seven years old.
She didn’t have the words to explain what had happened. She only knew that something didn’t feel right. She lay awake in silence, staring into the darkness, trying to understand why she suddenly felt so afraid.
That memory stayed with her.
As time passed, Lilyan and her older brother went to live with the woman they called Nana. Life became different. It wasn’t perfect, but it was more stable than the life they had known before.
Her father still came to visit.
When Lilyan was about nine years old, another memory was added to the first.
One afternoon, he called her over and sat her on his lap. She had just begun to develop. As she sat there, he looked down the front of her shirt before saying, “You’re growing up to look just like your mother.”
Lilyan forced a smile, but something inside her felt uneasy.
She didn’t understand why those words bothered her.
She only knew they did.
Years later, she would realize it wasn’t just what he said.
It was the way he said it.
One afternoon, while watching an episode of Family Matters Court Lilyan listened as a father was accused of molesting his daughter.
She sat frozen.
For the first time, the memories she had carried for years suddenly felt real. She realized she didn’t have to keep them locked away anymore.
She decided to tell Nana what she remembered.
Instead of admitting what had happened, her father denied everything.
He claimed that Nana had brainwashed her. According to him, those memories didn’t belong to Lilyan at all.
But Lilyan knew differently.
No one had given her those memories.
No one had planted them.
She had lived with them.
They were hers.
Her voice.
Her truth.