My Father's Eyes

Since childhood, I have never been able

To look my father in the eye

I was terrified of the unholy depravity I would see

If I looked too close, I might fall in and be sucked into his world

The degeneracy of his core frightened me

I did not want to invite friends over to my home,

I did not want to live in a house with him

I was terrified, I just wanted to get away

One of my chores as a child

Was to put up laundry after it had been washed, dried and folded.

I was always told to not look at anything in

Dad’s closet

Just put his stuff away and leave

What kid would be able to do that?

The floor of his closet was stacked with brown

Taped up grocery store bags

Sealed tightly, full of shame and meant to be hidden

What child could resist?

I could not resist

I was ten years old when I opened one

And I was never the same

I was filled with confusion and terror

The bags were full of “men’s magazines” "graphic novels"

Filled with images no child should see

Items that should not exist

Much less in a home with children

Not normal Playboy or Hustler images, however.

Hardcore shit

Pictures of kids, young girls and animals and objects being used

By scary looking men to bring pleasure to themselves

By humiliating and doing horrific things to innocent people

Owning these images would send him to prison in today’s world

Not jail, prison.

Those images haunt me and horrify me to this day

Images meant to degrade and abuse

This was one of my father’s many vices

But in the 1970’s, it was a different world

I no longer wanted my friends to visit my home

Or to have sleepovers

Out of fear of what might be coursing through his mind about them

So much fear and terror thrived behind closed doors

There was a backroom at the local newsstand/bookstore

Yucca News Stand on Tenth Street in small town New Mexico

There was a room in the back

The door was covered by a black sheet

Not even a real door to keep the depravity within

I would go there to buy my Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books

The room was right next to the shelves

Where these children’s books were displayed

Men would slink in and out of that room all day

That’s where my father got his perverted fix.

ince childhood, I have never been able

To look my father in the eye

I was terrified of the unholy depravity I would see

If I looked too close, I might fall in and be sucked into his world

- Julie O'Hara

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