Sleeping with My Uncle...

Dear Diary, September 21, 2012

I'm missing him like the wind blows. I think of him in the mornings when I'm at my weakest. I can't succumb to him. But I do. And I kind of like it. He is like a snake that lives in my brain. Heathcliff. The man who comes back again and again. The dark man. The man in the shadows. The man who can only eat memories and air and who stands tall anyways. I'm looking for him these days. But his eyes won't look at mine.

Heathcliff, my love, my life. My husband. My lover. My love. Please come back to me.

...

Dear Diary, January 17, 2012

There's something going on between us. I don't know what to say about it. It's like my skin lights up and I want to be a better person, a happy person, when I'm with him. And I am happy. Because I have him. Heathcliff.

...

Dear Diary, February 2, 2012

It's Heathcliff's birthday today. He's 30 and feeling old. I think his age suits him. Very strong and experienced.

...

Dear Diary, November 23, 2011

My uncle, Heathcliff, is staying with us. I hadn't met him until today. He's young. 29. My grandmother had my father when she was 14. My uncle is much younger than my father. I'm 18. So I feel in some ways like me and Heathcliff are siblings. We kind of grew up together. We went to the same middle school, same high school. He graduated years before me of course, but people constantly compared me to him. He was almost like my older brother.

...

Dear Diary, November 29, 2011

Things are bad at home. My father lost his job at the factory. He's drinking a lot now. And always in a bad mood. Always yelling. Sometimes I wish I could disappear.

...

Dear Diary, December 3, 2011

Heathcliff is still staying with us. I've gotten used to him. The way he wakes up at the crack of dawn every morning. Makes himself breakfast. Goes to the gym. He's like a robot sometimes. It's interesting. I wake up in the morning and feel panic. There's school, there's finals, there's my whole life. I think Heathcliff wakes up and just feels calm. An overwhelming sense of calm. I want to be more like him.

...

Dear Diary, December 25, 2011

Merry Christmas. I don't know how to say this. Heathcliff kissed me. Under the mistletoe. I don't know what happened. My mom and dad went out on a date and it ended up being me and Heathcliff just at the house together and he asked me if I've ever had eggnog the proper way and I didn't know what to say. So he made me eggnog and had me drink it, except I realized there was alcohol in it and started to feel funny.

Then, when I was touching my tummy, and feeling a little faint, Heathcliff kissed me. He said "Are you alright?" and I said "Yeah." But really I was feeling sick as all hell. I didn't understand why he kissed me and I didn't want him to kiss me again because I'm a Christian girl and can't be caught doing things like that. He wasn't the first boy who'd kissed me like that, when I was vulnerable.

...

Dear Diary, January 1, 2012

I ended up going to the party with Heathcliff. He brought me along as his "date" as he called it. But of course he was kidding. He's 30 for gods sake. Anyways, he was parading me around. Showing me to his guy friends. I loved how proud he was to show me off. My dad thought I was with Cindy so this was all in secret. I don't know what about it made me not want to tell my parents. It wasn't naughty or anything. Heathcliff was just my young uncle who liked fun and was showing me around. I didn't want to be ungrateful or read more into it than what it was. I don't know what to think around him.

I don't mind that he kissed me. I haven't been thinking about it lately. It was just a silly moment. People make mistakes. Things happen.

...

Dear Diary, January 10, 2012

It happened again. I don't know how to feel about it. When I think of Heathcliff, I think of happiness. That's the honest truth. When mom and dad were gone last night we sat down and watched a movie in the living room. It was one of those romantic movies. Where the man loves the woman and then leaves her anyway. I thought it was sad. Heathcliff told me he'd never abandon me like that. "He doesn't know how to treat her," he said. "A good man won't leave his woman, even when things get tough." And he was looking at me. Kind of smiling. "I'd never treat you like that, cupcake."

Then he was leaning in. His arm slung across my shoulder. I didn't know what to do. He kissed me. Deeply.

I felt something, even if it was for a little while.

...

Dear Diary, February 14, 2012

It's Valentines Day. And Heathcliff got me a stuffed teddy bear. It wasn't weird or anything. My mom totally knew about it and thought it was a cute gift. I've been down lately. My father gets drunk and yells. It's scary. He hit me tonight. Smacked me square in the face. Right in front of mom and Heathcliff. We had gotten into some argument about him finally finding a job.

I was so embarrassed. I couldn't look at Heathcliff or mom. I don't know what they thought. I must've looked pathetic. Like a stupid little girl. I ran up to my room right after and here I am writing and crying.

...

Dear Diary, March 29, 2012

Heathcliff wrote me a letter.

"Catherine,

You're a beautiful star. I am so proud of the woman you've become. I've wanted to talk to you for a while. The way your father treats you...it's despicable. I remember when he hit you. I know I was silent, but in my head I was fuming. I wanted nothing more than to take Paul by the arm and give him a piece of my mind.

You have to know that you don't deserve that. You don't deserve to be hit and hurt and yelled at and told you're nothing. I know that I've...taken liberties with you. We've felt things together. Nice things. I want to shield you from your father. I want to protect you. To hold you. My beautiful star. Know that you are loved."

I'm thinking about that last line. Does he love me? I'm loved by whom? Some sick part of me wants to run away with him. Away from this shithole. This life of sadness.

...

Dear Diary, April 21, 2012

I don't want to call Heathcliff my boyfriend, but he's something close to that. We shouldn't be together because he's so much older...and I'm so much younger, but there's magic in his eyes sometimes.

My father hit me again tonight. But this time Heathcliff stood up for me. They got into a fight. And he hit dad right in the jaw. Dad was down. Bleeding from his nose and looking like a pathetic drunken fool.

...

Dear Diary, April 27, 2012

I go on these long walks at night. I think about my life. About Heathcliff. About my father. I wonder why my mother is always silent when my father is drunk. And I want to get away from here.

I'm more than just a quiet girl. I think that women degrade themselves sometimes and help madness in its mission. I want to kill my father. I'm not weak like he thinks I am. And I'm not a child anymore.

...

Dear Diary, May 9, 2012

I'm graduating soon. Heathcliff is always at my side. Some days I'm not sure what he's thinking. The thoughtful man with the long face. Sometimes he can be quiet. Not in a sneaky way. In a considered way. He's always next to me, reading the paper or diddling with his thumbs. I think it's cute.

My mother is delighted that we've struck such a friendship. She kicked my father out. Hopefully for good this time. And she's told me she wants me to have a strong male figure in my life. Someone who was the opposite of my father. And that's Heathcliff.

Lately, we've been having these sessions. I don't know what to call it. We kiss each other when no one's home. Long and slow kisses. Me in his lap, his hand squeezed around my face. Forceful kisses. He sticks his tongue in my mouth. And I love it. And our tongues touch and we feel like birds dancing in the wind.

When mom is home we kiss in the upstairs closet. The one near the study. It's dark in there, but I can feel his hands all over me. "My beautiful star."

...

Dear Diary, July 19, 2012

I was so jealous today. Cindy came over and she's been telling me how hot she thinks Heathcliff is. Well she came over and was flirting with him all day today. What a slut. She's my best friend and everything, but that's my man. I shouldn't be so jealous. It's a sin. But part of me is thinking of the lessons I've learned from my father. Women cheat themselves out of happiness by being small. I don't want to be small. I think that Heathcliff makes me feel big. Even when we're in the dark, in the closet, kissing each other. His hand over my waist. His face clenched in passion. I'm his beautiful star.

...

Dear Diary, August 3, 2012

I think it's time. I'm a Christian, but I don't know. I've been thinking about God and what He is. If God is real, he has brought Heathcliff to me.

My father came back. Drunk. Smelling like shit. He trashed the house. "You think you can just throw me out you little bitch?" He screamed at my mother.

Heathcliff called the police and had him arrested. He threw away the broken dishes. He put a bandage over my mother's eye and helped her into bed.

So I think it's time. I don't think this is about being married or not being married. I don't think it's about having kids or not having kids. I think it's about love. And not just love from a storybook. The kind of absolute love you feel in your soul. That you think must have come from something divine. Something out of the sky brought true love to you and this is your only chance. Your last chance to save yourself and make something of your life. So I want to have sex for the first time and I want it to be with Heathcliff. I want him inside of me. Forever. I want to hold his hand while he's touching me there. And I want to say, "From my soul to yours, I am so happy you are here with me."

...

Dear Diary, September 1, 2012

There is so much passion in my heart. Heathcliff, my lover. My man. The father of fathers.

He took me out to the movies tonight and we watched a romance. It was so like us to watch a love story. Heathcliff leaned over to me over and over and said, "How can he treat her like that? A man should treat his wife like a princess."

And afterward we went home. Mom is still out of town. I'm afraid to admit it, but we've been sharing the bed. Sleeping next to each other. No funny business. Still with our pajamas on. My nightie. His t-shirt and boxers.

We've been sharing the bed for just a couple of days. I don't know, it happened naturally. It just happened.

After our date, he led me by my hand to my bedroom. Still decorated with stuffed animals and other toys from childhood. "Catherine, my beautiful girl. My star..."

I leaned into him. I wanted him to kiss me. And he did. His scratchy facial hair against my lips. My man. And I don't know what I was doing, but I started unbuckling his belt. I wanted to see all of him. I knew what a penis was. But I'd never seen one in real life. And I've spent nights imagining what Heathcliff's penis might look like. What if it's too big? What if it's ugly? I think I have a fascination...

So I unbuckled his pants and when I pulled them down I saw the biggest thing I've ever seen in my life. I was scared to touch it. It was so hard. And I'd never seen one before, let alone touched one. And Heathcliff was smiling and looking amused.

"I know they don't teach you this in school, but this is called a cock, princess."

And I nodded my head. It was so fat. And it leaned slightly to the left. Heathcliff had massive, hairy thighs. He was a grown man.

I've known it was time for a while now. I quickly pulled down my panties and flipped up my skirt. Took my top off. Heathcliff just stared. I was still in my high school uniform. His hard cock bobbing up and down. Heathcliff took his shirt off. He had a forest of pubic hair that bled into his stomach and chest hair. Heathcliff has such a commanding presence.

He reached over and unclasped my bra. He stared at my breasts, kneaded my nipples with his thumbs. We were both practically naked. Standing in a room full of toys and teddy bears. Just me and him. And it felt so right.

I liked the feeling of his adult penis pressed against my belly, as we stood there. And we stood there for some time. Just looking into each other's eyes. Holding hands. Whispering sweet nothings.

I want to feel like that forever. That naked connection. When the body and soul connect to another and breathe a sigh of relief. Love enters your body and changes you for the good.

He laid me down on the bed. Got on top of me. And we were looking at each other. Feeling each other's bodies.

And while I was on my back looking up at him, my legs wrapped around him, he pressed himself against my opening and said, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"And I want you to be mine."

"Yours?" "Mine."

And we were sort of holding each other. Feeling the spirit within us. I looked at him and I didn't feel shame. I felt power. And I could tell he felt it, too.

He kissed me. And then he became my lover, thrusting into me and making me feel all of him. I wrapped my arms around his back. Let my head go lax. He tore through my hymen, and it didn't hurt. It felt like a new beginning.

It felt good to let him be in control. Heathcliff is what my father could never be. He thrust into me over and over, making me receive his love. And I took it. And I took it with a smile. My protector. My Heathcliff.

...

Dear Diary, September 19, 2012

Everything is ruined. The police just left. I can still picture them in my mind, their navy-colored jackets and long faces.

I don't know how to explain. This is horror. My father came back again. And I think he was using something other than alcohol this time. Something worse. He looked older. Aged. Sick. Like a crackhead.

Well he came back one night and mom was gone and so was Heathcliff. So it was just me there in the house. In my bedroom doing homework. And my father threw my bedroom door open and stood there with a frown on his face. He still had keys to the house.

I was in shock. I didn't recognize what I saw in his face. So hardened. Sick. And then he went into this diatribe about men and him and what he wants to do to women. I didn't like listening to it. But it wasn't exactly new. I've heard him say things like this all my life, only now it was more amplified. Domination and submission. That's how my father saw the world, and saw the relationship between men and women.

I believe my father feels rejected. Like we decided he was no good and tossed him aside. These women who were supposed to love him unconditionally and build him up as a man.

And then, he was on me. Taking out all his aggression. Pulling down my pants, slapping me in the face. It was all so overwhelming and I just want to sink into a black hole. He tried to rape me. I have to admit that to myself. My own father forced himself on me. He pulled his penis out and showed it to me. I closed my eyes. I was crying.

But Heathcliff caught us! My uncle. He was there, in the room. Just all of a sudden. Like a hero. Like a father ready to protect his daughter.

My man. What Heathcliff saw was a violation to our integrity as an entity. As a unit. As one person.

What happened next changed everything forever. There was a fight. My father, cracked out and out of his mind, and his brother.

My dresser was left broken, so were lamps and other knickknacks. It was a crashing, thunderous sound. Heathcliff was landing blow after blow. And he wasn't holding back. They wrestled each other to the ground. And this was all for my sake. That's what I was thinking.

And then Heathcliff picked up one of the lamps that had fallen. The lampshade had come off and the glass bulb was shattered. He forced it as hard as he could across my father's face.

I was the one who called 911 when my father didn't wake up. And Heathcliff didn't hide. He didn't try to run away when they arrested him. But he wouldn't look at me.

I'm wondering if something changed in his eyes when he saw me like that with my father. He knew it was forced. But still.

Or maybe he has so much regret about that one moment where he ended my father's life that he can't bear to look at me.

I don't know.

But through my grief, I've been able to understand Heathcliff. The man that he is. He is still my protector. My father. My uncle. My lover. And maybe what he did was the ultimate act of protection.

But still it's so wrong. I want him even after what he's done. Maybe all the more because of what he's done. In my fantasy, we run away together. But that isn't possible. I love him I love him I love him I love him. Even with this weight, this baggage. This albatross. He is my man.