Quyen Vong

Instructor Jessica Morton

UWRT 1102-007 Fall 2016
November 2016
Dear Reader,
I intended for my extended prose piece to reach out to anyone to hear me out on why oppression
of women is a problem worthy of mass recognition. If a reader or someone they love gets the
chance to read this text I want to reassure them that theyre not alone. I didnt write this prose
piece blindly, the situation my fictional character is in can be connected to thousands of women
all over the globe. My purpose is to advocate to the world the mistreatment committed against
women every second of every day. Thats the reason I decided on my genre of text to be a letter
that comes with its own mini-story. The letter is written from the point of view of a victim of
spousal abuse, I hope youll take notice on the evidence of self-blame in the victim and excuses
made from her abuser. I want to forewarn you that the text will contain details of beatings, rape,
rape pregnancy and degrading acts against the female character. Did you know that in India rape
between a married couple is considered inconclusive? Violence committed against women was a
part of my oppression against women research/inquiry which led me to my choice of genre. I
want to fill you in on what goes on behind closed doors of an abusive relationship and the violent
chaos that comes with it. I guess I went down a darker past because some people just dont seem
to realize that its not easy to be a woman because of the submissive positions theyre commonly
placed in. For this particular character, it wasnt easy to escape from her tormentor because
sometimes victims dont have what it takes to leave as easily as everyone assumes. I was there to
witness my aunts marriage slowly but violently implode until she herself imploded. I made it out

to be a letter from the victim to her dad because I know my aunt never let my grandpa see her
suffer, not even when he passed. That personal connection to my topic inspires me to talk about it
that much more in the way that I did. I feel good about this text because it has meaning to me as
a writer and hopefully Im able to convey the right message through this letter. There might be a
few holes here and there since this is my first time writing a fictional story within a letter so
please dont judge my storyline too harshly.
Sincerely,
Quyen Vong

Dear Dad,
I should blame myself for landing in a prison cell because thats what perpetrators do
right? Every criminal mustve done something wrong to get themselves incarcerated am I right? I
know how the majority view me, they all think Im some deranged woman who had a psychotic
break and committed murder. I actually took a life dad, took it in such a violent manner and I
cant even remember it. They tell me I should be disgusted with myself for gutting my husband
in his sleep like he was an animal and I was the butcher in the slaughterhouse. Hearing the gory
details of the crime committed by my own hands is so surreal, it made me think that maybe I
might just be as psychotic as they say if that was what I was capable of. Im not sure if this letter
will change anything between us but its something I absolutely have to get off my chest. I dont
care that strangers are looking at me as if I was a thrilling exhibition at the zoo, I care how you
look at me because despite what transpired between us you are still my dad. I hope you read
every detail to get a better understanding of why I did what I did before you solidify your
judgement of me, thats why Im writing this. Im sorry to have to say this but theres still a part
of me that blamed you for not fighting for me hard enough. I was 16 dad, what in the world
couldve prepared me fast enough for what happened because you werent there. When mom
passed it was just you and I, you worked nonstop to keep our apartment so I had a place to call
home which Im thankful to you for. However, I only saw you around the house for a few
minutes every day and along the way our dynamic changed over time. I guess in a way I resented
you for it, maybe if you were around enough you wouldve saved me from myself. I even
blamed mom for leaving too soon, what if she stuck around and our family was still whole.
Anyways, I want you to hear from me about what landed me into the predicament Im in today
and not have to hear about it from outsiders. When I met Stephan he was charming and persistent

in getting to know me and I happily welcomed it. Stephen was a college boy and I was a 16-yearold overjoyed teen who thought about how Im going to rub it in my classmates faces. We talked
at that bakery (you know the one that belongs to our landladys granddaughter) until I missed my
first morning class, I was that enchanted by Stephen. He met up with me every day for my
breakfast runs and within a week we exchanged promises to meet up on the weekend. Stephen
was the perfect gentleman when he took me for the usual 1 st date movie and I got to one up all
those high school girls. He even paid for everything unlike those high school boys you call
chaps. For some bizarre reason Liza didnt get along with Stephen from the beginning but I just
chucked it up to her being a protective best friend who was slightly jealous. One of my many
regrets was losing Liza as a support system, I wonder what she thinks about me now when she
sees me on the news. I bet shed tell her how I shouldve listened to her, god I wish I had listened
to her. Things were good for a while with Stephen and we saw each other every weekend where
hed take me to try new foods, won me fair prizes, and overall showered me with adoration.
When I nervously brought him around to meet you (on the rare instance you were home), you
actually approved of him unlike those other times you just barely acknowledged my other
boyfriends. I mean it isnt hard to like him, one of his weapons is being able to easily charm the
pants off of everyone he meets, Stephen was naturally charismatic after all. That new sweet
couple phase didnt last long and it was the first time I caught a first glimpse of who Stephen
truly was. Liza was having her quinceanera that night and of course as her best friend Id have to
attend. Stephen wasnt keen on going at all and threw out a couple of insults against Liza before I
managed to convince him by saying Id try Cuban food if he went. Stephen showed his disdain
when I came out in a dress, he said it was too short and horny teenage boys would take it as
permission to target me. I thought it was cute how protective he was being but little did I know it

was just a part of his need for control. Everything went well at the beginning of the night and
then things just shot straight into hell. That night was the first time I felt something other than
happiness with Stephen, I felt fear. Graham showed up to the party and we ended on good terms
so I didnt take it as anything when he hugged me and handed me a drink while we chatted. You
remember Graham right, its the ex-boyfriend you nicknamed maple tree because of his stocky
legs and sticky maple syrup-like hair gel. I have to admit I silently laughed to myself about that
when you turned the other cheek. Stephen didnt take to my interaction with Graham very well,
this was the first crack in his mask and what shouldve been a red flag to me. He forcefully
dragged me into the nearby bathroom and pinned me flat against the wall before proceeding to
lay out every degrading term he could think of to hurl at me. Before I knew it a fist came flying
and I instinctively closed my eyes. He didnt lay his hands on me that night but he did knock
Lizas towel rack clean off the walls and declared that we were leaving. Following that fight he
tucked in apologies left and right along with the teddies and notes hed stop by to give me. I
blamed myself for being careless and not thinking how my interaction with an ex-lover would
affect him so I forgave him. Stephen started coming around the house every day then and even
slept over to the point where you made a joke about how he should make the couch when he
wakes. It wasnt even a week after that incident that he told me he loved me and that he wanted
me to spend thanksgiving with his family in Raleigh. I ran it through you and you happily
accepted if it meant I had someone to spend thanksgiving with. Even you knew for yourself you
werent going to be around to have a proper family meal with your only daughter, you were
going to be caught up at the station as usual. The Starks were a piece of work and for the longest
time I used them as the reason as to why Stephen is the way he is; the apple doesnt fall far from
the tree. Mr. Starks ruled the household with an iron fist, everything in the house was uniform

and every cup was polished with a coaster underneath. If Im recalling correctly, you barely
manage to throw away your disposable contact lenses. Stephen recounted his childhood to me
which centered around his fathers beating of both him and his mom, Mr. Starks would hand out
beatings if dinner wasnt ready and warm when he got home or when Mrs. Starks Sunday
church dress was too wrinkled for his taste. Stephen brought up his paternal abuse to illicit pity
whenever he was done beating on me, why couldnt I make the connection that I was in the same
abusive relationship his mother was in. That sure wouldve saved me from the nightmares and of
course the murder charge. We physically solidified our relationship during that trip which I did
tell you. After thanksgiving concluded, Stephen brought up wanting to spend the rest of his life
with me and proposed that I move into his apartment. All I knew was that I loved him and I
wanted to be around him at all moments of the day so I was hyped. You were the only person I
had besides Stephen, I long lost touch with all my school friends in exchange for more time with
Stephen. I think this was when I felt like I lost you too, you went ballistic when I brought up
moving out. Instead of listening to you I secretly went to file emancipation along with
threatening to use your neglect and past alcohol abuse to win the case. Im so sorry for
practically pushing you to desert me, I take the blame for that. Before I knew it, I was living with
Stephen and placing all of my dependence upon him. That furthered cemented me to him,
without him Id lose a place to stay and financial support. This was when crap hit the fan full
speed. Stephen feeds off of control and he knew how much I depended on him which he worked
to his advantage. The first beating happened when I wanted to make a spaghetti dinner for the
first night at the apartment before he came home from school. He was happy with me until he
spotted that I didnt clean up after making the meal. Stephen knocked my plate to the ground,
backhanded me onto the floor along with it and demanded I eat my dinner off of the wooden

planks. He quietly sat at the dining table eating his meal while watching me with the sadistic
smile Ive yet to erase from my mind that still haunts me. Whenever he dishes out a beating he
always follows it with the honeymoon phase where he showers me with respect, care, gifts, and
catered to my every whim. The honeymoon phase became familiar to me; it was his way of
making sure I was still under his belt. I was scared, I didnt have Liza and I was sure you didnt
want anything to do with me with the way things went down between us. I didnt want to run
back home to be reminded just how much I failed at being my own keeper. Ive never felt so
helpless dad, not even when mom was taken from me unexpectedly. I needed Stephen, he
became the one who provided me shelter and finance which was something I use to look to you
for. After the first beating, Stephen made sure I played the submissive housewife well. I color
coded the closets and drawers, prepared dinner before he got home, dusted every corner, and
ironed all of his button-ups. I earned ten lashes from his belt when I once forgot to steam iron his
favorite business suit for a part time job interview. By the time Christmas rolled around Stephen
reverted back to the Stephen I met in the Bakery and I thought things were going to be okay
again. New Years came and I felt safe that the man I fell in love with has found himself finally,
the tyrant that dictated my life mustve just been due to semester stress. I was still walking on
eggshells, I didnt want to ruin his mood and I sure didnt want to have to count the lashes as he
left bloody welts on my backside with his belt. The New Year party was hosted by his coworker
so of course wed have to show, that wasnt the case for my social upkeep though. He got drunk
that night and I was careful not to set off a drunken beast but it is a party after all. Some drunken
guys brushed up against me and I glanced in their direction as a natural reaction even though Ive
been avoiding eye contact with the men there all night. Stephen calmly walked me to the
bathroom and him being calm caused me the most intense kind of panic. He split my lip open

and banged my head against the sink until he saw blood. That was something I was familiar with
but what came after was something new. He placed my head faced down into the toilet basin and
violently raped me for the first time. Afterwards he just walked out to rejoin the party and left me
a heap on the ground. I cried in silence on the bathroom floor that night until morning came and
he returned to collect his toy. When we returned home he played the drunken memory loss card,
his sadistic smirk whenever I flinched in the seat told a different story. Every night he would
expect me to sexually please him, Im embarrassed to even tell you this because I know how
much Ive already disappointed you. I secretly met up during my school hours with a doctor to
prescribe me some birth control, I didnt want to bring another life around that sadist. I guess my
16-year-old self didnt seem to realize that he could check the insurance records and thats what
led to another one of his beatings. He wanted me to get pregnant so he could have the perfect
family like his own so he beat me that much harder for ruining his vision. It was so severe he had
no choice but to bring me to the hospital under the claim that I was jumped by a jealous exgirlfriend and her gang of friends. What he didnt know was that when he beat me black, blue
and bloody, I was already in the beginning of a pregnancy. When he found out he doted on me at
home, took me out for spa treatments every weekend, and did the majority of the housework. I
just took it all wordlessly, I didnt have anything left in me to fight. What he didnt stop was the
need for me to satisfy his sexual appetite, he wanted to make sure I got pregnant once again for
his vision to be complete. For every time he violated me he would follow up with pregnancy test
the next morning. After a month of being his sex slave, I was finally pregnant to his relief. This
was my breaking point. The breaking point everyone has been asking me about, the reason why I
committed the murder that I never disclosed to them. The unborn baby he beat to death with his
own two hands was enough. That was my baby dad, that baby was mine to love. I wasnt going

to bring another life into this world, specifically its fathers world. I didnt want to be reminded
that this baby was conceived out of violence and was the product of a rape. I was ready to free
myself. That night after he finished his online class load and headed off to bed, I quietly grabbed
the kitchen knife and waited until his breathing evened out. Recounting this is like being on an
ultimate stoners high, through a foggy focused lens. My arm rammed the knife into his genital
before I yanked it upwards, pulled it out and plunged it onto every other surface. The report
stated the coroner pinpointed it at 22 stabs. His eyes were wide open and I watched those
chocolate beady eyes turn a blank black when he took his last breath. I called the police after I
fell out of my murder haze, I think I spent half an hour staring at the massacre in shock before
they arrived to collect me and his corpse. I just let out a breath of relief in my cell knowing hes 8
feet under. I want you to make sure my baby is raised in a loving and doting family the second he
or she is born. I took away a monster so that my babys world would be pure unlike his mothers.
I told my lawyer to give you this letter after my lethal injection is done. I just dont have the will
to try and piece myself back together dad. Im sorry Im weak, sorry Ive shamed our family
name, sorry Ive disgraced myself, but most of all Im sorry I disappointed you and mom. I want
you to accept my choice to join mom and I want you to watch over your grandbaby. Protect it
and make up for when you couldnt protect me even though you tried, I was just stubborn and in
love. I hope one day youll understand why Im choosing to die instead of claiming defense over
my unborn baby. Id rather have them assume I just went berserk than to spend another second in
my mind. There are too many bad memories I cant escape and death is my only silence. A guard
guided me by my arm the other day and I screeched like a banshee at the contact of another male.
I didnt even realize the screeching was coming from me until I felt the warm wet stream down
my legs. You might see salvation for me in my future but all I see is his beady eyes everywhere I

look. This is my only escape; this is how I want to free myself. I love you, I hope one day youll
understand.
Infinitely,
Harley
Acknowledgements
I want to thank all the women out there who speak for those women who are oppressed
and submerged in violence. All the victims who have spoken out about their own horrific
encounters to reassure other potential victims that they arent alone and that someone
understands. Most of all I wish to thank my Aunt for still being here today and not losing
strength so she could watch her kids grow up. I was around to hear her confide in my mom about
all the times she has wanted to end her life yet she took one look at my cousin and held onto that.
I admire her and I want to dedicate this piece of writing to Aunt B.