Part 2Boundaryless Dad, Online Plea, Family’s Remorse

Her tone turned serious. “Your father loves you. He treats you like you’re made of glass. How could you even think such twisted things about him? That thought itself isn’t normal!”

“But I…” I wanted to argue, to tell her that the way he looked at me had changed.

“No buts!” she cut me off, her voice sharp and final. “You’re a teenager. You’re hormonal, you’re overthinking things! You’ve got too much time on your hands. You should be studying, figuring out how to get your grades up.”

“You’re in high school now. Things are much harder. Stop obsessing over this nonsense!”

She turned her attention back to my brother, her face instantly softening into a smile. “Is my sweet boy getting impatient? Let’s have some more apple.”

Listening to her coo at my brother, the words died in my throat.

What if she’s right? What if my thoughts aren’t normal?

The lock on the bathroom door had been broken for months. I’d mentioned it countless times. Mom would always say, “I know, I’ll get to it,” and then nothing would happen.

Taking a shower became the most stressful part of my day. Dad often needed something from the bathroom while I was in there.

“Lily, did I leave my razor in there?”

“Your mom needs the laundry basket!”

Sometimes, he wouldn’t even wait for a response before the handle started to turn.

Today, I discovered the lock on my bedroom door was broken too. I couldn’t lock it from the inside.

I went to my mom again. “Mom, my bedroom lock is broken. We need to get it replaced soon.”

She was busy changing my brother’s diaper and didn’t look up. “You used to lock your door all the time to play on your phone. Now that you’re in high school, you can’t be doing that. It’s a good thing it’s broken. Makes it easier for me to check on you.”

“I wasn’t!” I stomped my foot, furious. “I just want some privacy!”

“Alright, alright, nobody’s spying on you,” she said, her voice laced with impatience. “Teenagers are so difficult. Your mind should be on your studies.”

“If you get in the top ten on your midterms, I’ll get the lock fixed. I’m doing this for your own good, to help you stay focused.”

I didn’t want to believe my dad had bad intentions, but I couldn’t convince myself to ignore how I felt.

I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t concentrate in class.

I needed an answer. I needed someone to tell me if this was normal. And if I was the one in the wrong, I needed to know how to fix my way of thinking.

That evening, my dad came into my room again, using the excuse of “checking the air conditioner temperature,” and stayed for a long time. His gaze lingered on my neck and arms. The feelings I’d been suppressing finally reached their breaking point.

I secretly turned on my phone’s video recorder.

“Dad, why are you always like this? I’ve told you so many times to knock! Why don’t you ever listen?”

“And when I’m in the shower, why do you always find an excuse to open the door?”

“I’m fifteen years old! I’m not a little kid anymore! You’re scaring me! What do you want?”

My dad’s expression shifted from surprise to sullen anger. “What are you talking about? I’m your father!”

My mom’s voice drifted in from the living room. “Alright, keep it down, you’ll scare the baby. Honey, just remember to knock, okay?”

I posted the video online.

I described my dad’s chronic lack of boundaries, my mom’s dismissiveness, and the immense stress and self-doubt it was causing me.

[Am I just being too sensitive? How do I fix my mindset? Please, someone tell me.]

I was waiting for advice and analysis from strangers when my mom saw the video.

She stormed into my room, her face pale with fury, shoving her phone in my face.

“Lily! Look what you’ve done! Look what these people are saying!”