Once upon a time, you couldn't hurt a princess. In the beginning I pretended I didn't, but To the man who sneaks in and calls me his princess, I know it's you. I recognize your hands, your breath, your arms, and your noises. But you must know that I do. Your hands―the ones around my throat that tie those knots around my wrists at night― The same that I watch pack my lunch in the morning. Your breath―the first thing I hear when you hover near my ear, biting my neck at night― The same that pants after a flight of stairs and smells of garlic. Your arms―the heavy weights on my legs at night― The same that Sis and I clung onto as a little girls. And your noises―the groans and moans and spine-tingling whispers I hear at night― The same that come from Mommy's bedroom on the weekends. I know who you are, Yet I'm a good Daddy's princess and try not to squeal; I sit politely at family meals, like a real princess would. I never complain about the stains on my sheets or gowns, Or ask questions about our nightly interactions. I'm a good little secret-keeper; I never say a word. I'm a great actress too. As you know, I can play pretend. But pretending to forget is easier than pretending to not feel pain. Pain is the body's message to the mind that something is wrong. So it's hard to pretend that I can't feel you stuff yourself inside me. It takes years of skill. But I've been practicing since the beginning. I pretend at school, too. We talk about boys and imagine they've just invited us to the ball, like we're real princesses just waiting for a prince to sweep us off our feet. And with Coach Harry, too, at tennis practice: I always ask him for Band-Aids for the burns on my knees, Claiming I took another fall. I pretend with Dr. Henry, too. I pretend it's opposite day whenever I see him and his notebook of scribbles: I tell him I'm happy, I'm eating well; the family is great, that nobody's touched me, that Daddy is kind, and that I have no fears. Dr. Henry is pretty bad at playing opposite day, so I keep the score to myself. We eat dinner as a family, and Mommy goes to bed early since she has to wake up at 5 in the morning. And then Sis goes to her room and gets ready for bed. I do too, but I don't fall asleep straight away, I lie awake and wait for you to come. I know you're coming soon, And so does the man in the moon that looks through my window. I keep one eye attending to the door, Hoping that maybe, just maybe you don't need me anymore. But my hope dissipates into brittle pieces Like flaming acrylic disintegrating into ash. The instant my auditory cortex notices the door creek; It launches the threat straight to my amygdala. My sympathetic nervous system ignites, sending a surge of fiery-hot energy to my extremities. My breath gets heavy and goose bumps blanket my body. My heart starts racing and my legs twitch as fast as the twinkling stars in the sky. I know what's coming next, so my body tells me to scream. But I fight the instinct because I don't want Daddy to get mean. I watch you inch past the doorway with the roll of adhesive dangling like a bracelet on your wrist. We've done this too many times; you know me too well and expect that I'll yell; You can't risk me waking Big Sis. I hear the tape tear slowly, like my innocence you incrementally unthread from my body. I watch your hands guide it to my mouth. I suck in my lips so when you rip it off it won't hurt as bad. I close my eyes and start to pretend That you hadn't just created a story where the princess can't live happily ever after in the end. _ Please forgive me, little Sis. I really thought he just did it to me Or that Mommy was right; it was just a bad dream, even the screams. But one night he never came in, and I got up to see him skulk into your room. I saw his hands around your neck, your mouth clapped shut with the tape he used to use when I was bad, and your body thrashing into the sheets. That night I knew it wasn't just me and my dreams. And I wasn't his only favorite little girl. You were too. It suddenly all made sense… …the bug bites on your neck…. …the rug burns… .…your wobbly walk…. …your peeling lips… …the thick slices around your wrists… Your body looked like mine from when I used to resist. Those nights he didn't come in I told myself he was over it; that the nightmares were over; he'd had enough. But he hadn't. And I should have listened to Mommy when she said “dreams are too good to be true.” Because I could have saved you. I knew it was Daddy when I felt his studded wedding ring go inside me And when he made a mess and shuffled anxiously to my closet for that stained, crinkled dress. I just didn't know he went to your room next. I'm so sorry that I was too afraid to confess. You don't have to pretend anymore. You don't have to hide anymore. You're safe. We will write our own fairy tale ending― one where the bad guy doesn't win.