Epiphany: A sudden realization or sudden intuitive leap of understanding, especially through an ordinary or striking experience.

I didn’t believe in epiphanies until that day.

I woke up to nothing but a heavy pounding headache; I tried to sit up but my body said no and I smacked back to the bed with a loud groan. Hangover. I dragged my fingers through my hair and tried to massage the pain away; but it wouldn’t go. After a few seconds of closing my eyes and willing the pain to go, I decided it wasn’t working and I had to live with it.

I opened my eyes slowly and allowed the bright light to stab me. A long sigh escaped me; I had done it again. I was in a strange house, on a strange bed; I looked down at myself and yes, with little or no clothes on. Excessive drinking had never let me down. I took a few more minutes to gauge my surroundings; expensive place, it seemed. No inkling as to who the owner might be; no pictures or personal items lying around.

I dragged myself up and while picking my stray clothes around, tried to remember the events of the last night. Of course, nothing came to mind. I tried berating myself, that didn’t work either, I knew deep down that in a week’s time; I’d be in another strange bed in another strange house. I found the bathroom and stepped in to take a shower; I had to look good for my walk of shame; no knowing who I might run into.

Water coursing down my back, I let the tears flood. This wasn’t new either. Self-pity. Why had I turned out like this? At first, mother made excuses for me while begging me not to go off and live on my own: “It’s because Uncle Sam touched her as a child;” “She needs to adapt to a new environment, get to know herself;” “Oh, let her be; she’s exorcising her demons.” Until she ran out of them.

It had been innocent, wanting to live with my wild friends, then they became to tame for me. Shirking them off, running in yet wilder circles until they became too tame for me. Loosing all who loved me, seeking solace in strong liquid and dark bars. I was a twenty eight year old maid with no constant friend, or man, or family. I held on to my frequent one-night stands, they drove away the loneliness, even for just a bit.

Because there’s nothing worse than being alone.

I turned off the faucet just as the outer door creaked. Drying myself with the towel on the rack, I hurriedly pulled my clothes on. The bathroom door rattled. “You in there?”

I opened the door to see a young face. A very young face. My jaw dropped. “Are you..? Did we..?” I couldn’t even form the question in my mind as my finger pointed to him and then to me.

“Yeah; my friends couldn’t believe it, so I took pictures, hope you don’t mind. But you’ve got to go now; my dad will…”

“What?” I shrieked. This had to be the height of all my follies.”How old are you? Sixteen?”

He puffed his chest out. “I’m eighteen. And I gave you a really good time.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me to the door, “But time’s up. My dad will soon be home.” He was surprisingly strong, or maybe I was surprisingly weak.

I struggled aimlessly as I was dragged out of the room that looked like the guest room once I was out. The living room was graced with pictures on every wall; my gaze inadvertently was drawn to the biggest frame. I froze in my tracks. Young boy protested loudly and continued the pulling. My body had gone numb, so in a few moments, I was out the gate and my purse was flung into my arms.

What rotten luck.

I had just spent the night with Uncle Sam’s son. My molester’s son. Uncle Sam’s son. Long nose, beady eyes, yep, it was Uncle Sam alright. My mind refused to be wrapped around it.

I began to tremble; head to feet. I had truly come round full-circle. In my bid to flee the loneliness that I had created myself, I had run smack into the arms of… my molester’s child.

I fumbled for my phone in my purse and dialed the number that I had never really forgotten.

“Hello?” The warm voice seemed to reach across the miles and envelope me. I was sobbing now.

“Mummy, I’m coming home.”