Daddy’s Girl(friend)

By Kim Sin

A book is both a window and a mirror. DADDY'S GIRL(friend) bridges the chasm between the private and public personas of Kim Sin with an exquisite balance of fact and feeling, experience and innocence, heartbreaking confession, and matter-of-fact clarity. The reader is changed by viewing the world of a child trying to make sense of a world where senseless suffering is the norm. Take this journey with Kim Sin. Seen through this sacred window and look at your own reflected image. Become more human yet more transcendent through this powerful yet accessible reading. We await future revelations of her skill and insights.
Michele McIver

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9780359651108

Book preview

Daddy’s Girl(friend)A picture containing text, book Description automatically generated

DADDY’S GIRL(friend)

Kim Sin

Lulu Press, Inc.

© 2019 by Kim Sin.

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by

Lulu Press, Inc.

627 Davis Drive, Suite 300

Morrisville, NC 27560

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

is available upon request.

ISBN 978-0-359-60683-2 Hard Cover

ISBN 978-0-359-66725-3 Paperback

ISBN 978-0-359-65110-8 eBook

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

First Edition

Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

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Forward:

Written by Ms. Michele McIver-Bell the teacher that showed me love when I needed it most.

A book is both a window and a mirror. Daddy’s Girl(friend) bridges the chasm between the private and public personas of Kim Sin with an exquisite balance of fact and feeling, experience and innocence, heart-breaking confession and matter-of-fact clarity. The reader is changed by viewing the world of a child trying to make sense of a world where senseless suffering is the norm. Take this journey with Kim Sin. See through this sacred window and look at your own reflected image. Become more human yet more transcendent through this powerful yet accessible reading. We await future revelations of her skill and insights.

~Michele McIver

Preface:

This book has been in the making for years. I was encouraged by my soulmate; my twin flame to write, to tell my story in order to help other young girls who have gone through similar situations of child abuse. It may be typical of other books, but this is my story, my journey and is unique to my life. It has taken me years to heal from this journey. It’s taken years of faith and soul searching and conversations with God to make it this far. I have had counseling, I have had rock bottom experiences where I truly felt lost and was in such despair, I was ready to give up.

Kim Sin is not my name. It is a pseudonym used to protect my family. While I am ready to share my story and while my family knows my truth, only I know the full details in which I am about to share with my readers. I have been afraid to write this book. I used the thought of protecting my family, more specifically, my children and sister as an excuse not to write. Like when I journal, it must be released. I cannot keep it in, and God has spoken. It is finally time. As I share this first segment of my life’s journey, I hope you take the walk with me to understanding how I can hold my head up and still smile. I am loved. I am blessed. I am eternally grateful for the life I have been given. I finally know my purpose.

Chapter 1: Memories of Mommy

Trying to remember how I grew up only a few memories stayed with me. I am in my late forties, so it has been a long time since I was a little girl. My earliest memory was of being scared in my bedroom waking up in darkness seeing shadows on my dresser. In my young four-year-old mind I knew that the shadow was a black figurine of a woman sitting with her head resting on her hands that were placed on her lifted knees, a replica of the Greek sculpture of the goddess, Venus. During the daytime, it was the prettiest image and it is what I think of as gracefulness. At night when the moonlight would come through my window, it would shine on this black figurine and become a monster. She turned into a bear one night, and on other nights, a creature I had no idea how to name, the scariest thing that would have me peeing in bed. Every night my mother naked as the day she was born, would come into my room and just hold me. I could not explain what it was that was giving me the night terrors, but I would cling to Mommy in fear. After changing the sheets, she would put me back in bed and leave. I would just stare out of the window and pick at my navel or pick at my fingers to feel that sticky feeling of comfort. Sometimes, I would just pick at the chipped paint on the wall staring at the moon until I fell back asleep.

My mother seemed like this docile, quiet, Korean lady until she had to protect my brother or me. She became this fierce warrior. Imagine what it is like to be a five-year-old and how gigantic a person looks when that person takes on the world. My mother was only five feet tall. Being married to my father, a man that was six two, was nothing when she was in protect mode. I remember one day; my brother and I were playing outside under a broken-down car that had no wheels and was sitting on cinder blocks. WITH MATCHES. I am not exactly sure how she knew, but then suddenly, she swoops in and pulls us from under the car screaming at us. She puts out the fire and to this day, I still do not think she ever told my father.

My father had this penchant for aggressive dogs. We had a Doberman Pinscher and an Alaskan Malamute. In my head, I’m not sure if it was at the same time, but the memories of my mother connect both pets. My brother and I are just a year apart, so we were always getting into mischief together. He and I were under the kitchen table and while Lobo was never aggressive to me, when my brother took my toy, he bit my brother. When he cried out, my mother swooped in and grabbed us both from under the table and smacked the dog so hard it NEVER came near us again. My brother still has the scar on his cheek where he was bitten. With the malamute (I do not remember his name), my only memory of him was connected again, to my mother and her protecting us as children. This time it was only me. I wanted to go play in the back yard, but the dog was kept in the laundry room and I had to go through it to get