Falsely accusing someone of rape for one, and molesting her 1 year-old sister. She was young when that happened, so I guess it isn’t as disturbing, but it’s still messed up. I know her dad was (is?) a freak so that might have something to do with how she turned out.
SHE DIDNT ACCUSE AN INNOCENT MAN OF RAPE
HER MISTAKE WAS NOT MAKING IT CLEAR THAT THE NAME SHE USED IN THE BOOK WAS NOT THE REAL NAME OF HER ATTACKER
AS FOR THE OTHER THING FROM HER BOOK
“Do we all have uteruses?” I asked my mother when I was seven.
“Yes,” she told me. “We’re born with them, and with all our eggs, but they start out very small. And they aren’t ready to make babies until we’re older.” I look at my sister, now a slim, tough one-year-old, and at her tiny belly. I imagined her eggs inside her, like the sack of spider eggs in Charlotte’s Web, and her uterus, the size of a thimble.
“Does her vagina look like mine?”
“I guess so,” my mother said. “Just smaller.”
One day, as I sat in our driveway in Long Island playing with blocks and buckets, my curiosity got the best of me. Grace was sitting up, babbling and smiling, and I leaned down between her legs and carefully spread open her vagina. She didn’t resist and when I saw what was inside I shrieked.
My mother came running. “Mama, Mama! Grace has something in there!”
My mother didn’t bother asking why I had opened Grace’s vagina. This was within the spectrum of things I did. She just got on her knees and looked for herself. It quickly became apparent that Grace had stuffed six or seven pebbles in there. My mother removed them patiently while Grace cackled, thrilled that her prank had been a success.
MAYBE THERE WAS WORSE BUT THAT JUST SOUNDS LIKE A CURIOUS SEVEN YEAR OLD WHO PROBABLY HASNT BEEN TAUGHT BOUNDARIES PROPERLY