When the Malignant Narcissist Discards Their Child

Ioften wondered why he recorded the incident or why he even kept that tape, considering the nature of what was on it.

Why would he even want to?

What father, in his right mind, would witness his daughter dying and just sit there?

Mine would.

Because my father was a malignant narcissist.

His abuse had been getting worse since my parents split two years prior when I was five years old.

In fact, he kidnapped me the day she left him and traveled across state lines, to Pennsylvania, with me — and his new supply, Jan.

I was missing in New York for two weeks.

Once the cops in New York and Pennsylvania were involved, they tracked him down, and he turned himself in at the precinct. Jan drove me to the precinct where my mom was waiting to be reunited with me.

I remember the car ride there and my arrival at the precinct.

This was when my mom found out Jan existed.

In court, my father told the judge that my mom could have me because,

I don’t want her.

I was in the room when he said this.

(Jan was right outside.)

Somehow he was still allowed custody of me on the weekends, along with two weeks in the summer.

It was this negligent decision that almost cost me my life because once he realized he lost my mom for good, he no longer had any use for me.

I was only born to “keep” my mom.

My father was never thrilled about me, personally, he was just happy to have a lifeline to the woman he really desired.

See: Narcissists Never Start Families… They Secure Supply

Essentially, I was a trap he set for her.

And he resented me once I proved to be a failed investment.

Once she detached from him completely, the only thing that was left linking him to her was me. The kid he never actually wanted.

I became a sore reminder of her so he wanted to get rid of me; not only to hurt her in the worst way possible but because he was jealous of me.

My father viewed me as his competition for her love because she would never give up on me the way that she gave up on him.

Unlike him, she would always love me.

And he knew that.

So, he wanted to make sure she had nothing left to love because if he couldn’t have her love nobody could.

Not even his own daughter.

…

2001

My father decided to go to Disney World for his 60th birthday (June 25th) and he wanted to take me.

According to the custody agreement, he always got me the first two weeks of summer break. So, I was always with him for his birthday, unless school got out a little bit later in the year.

This trip lined up perfectly.

We were only there for seven days but on the first night, I met a girl at the hotel pool who I started playing with named Emily.

Emily and I became fast friends and began playing together at the pool whenever we’d see each other.

My father and Emily’s mother would sit on the chairs at the side of the pool talking while my father recorded me, as we played.

Part of our playtime involved Emily teaching me how to swim because she was trained and I really wanted to learn. It’s funny how we forget certain skills when they matter most.

…

It’s true what they say about drowning

It happens quickly and quietly.

I was standing by the deep end of the pool (8 ft.).

I remember Emily being in the water but I wasn’t but I don’t remember how I lost my footing.

I only remember being shocked that it happened because I hadn’t been running alongside the wet flooring of the pool like kids are always warned against doing.

I went under and started panicking.

And then I started thinking fast — too fast.

All I could register was that:

I was drowning
I could no longer breathe
I had a limited amount of time to make it out of this water otherwise I was going to die.

In my panicked state, I remember strategizing walking over to the other side of the pool so I went all the way to the bottom and started walking over. I realized I wasn’t going to make it over to the other side.

It was taking too long and I had now lost my ability to hold my breath and needed air. I was desperate to take a deep breath for some reason. I understood that once I did this that I was, without a doubt, going to die.

But I was going to do it because I needed air.

Even though you can’t breathe underwater.

So… I knew it was over.

I knew this was the end.

The only thing on my mind now was my mom

She wasn’t here.

She was at home — our home — and I was in Disney World getting ready to die, and she needed to know what happened to me.

And I wouldn’t be here to tell her.

So, I did all that was left to do.

I prayed.

I said this exact prayer —

God, please tell my mommy I love her. Please find a way to tell my mommy that I love her very much and that I didn’t mean to die. Make sure you find a way to tell her what happened to me and that I love her.

At seven years old, I accepted my death.

And with that, I took a deep breath…

Of air.

Underwater.

…

“Why didn’t you help me?”

I suddenly looked next to me and realized Emily was right there.

Something else that’s true about drownings?

They really do happen so fast that sometimes nobody notices you’ve gone under or sometimes can’t tell you’re in need of help when they do see you.

I had been panicking too much to focus, so I never noticed that Emily had been right next to me the entire time.

To be fair, she also never noticed me fall in or if she did she wasn’t aware that I had started drowning right next to her.

What I noticed next is what saved my life.

Just beyond Emily… were the swimming pool steps.

I made my way toward them and used all the strength of that one breath to climb those steps and lift myself out of that water.

The first thing I did?

Ran to my father, crying.

The first thing I said to him?

Why didn’t you help me?

His response?

I knew you could do it. I knew you could save yourself. If I didn’t think you could. I would’ve came in and got you.

Yes.

He saw me fall in.

Yes.

He understood that I was drowning.

No.

He did absolutely nothing about it…

Except keep the camcorder rolling.

…

I still have that tape

I stole it when we got back to New York.

(Yes, my mom has seen it.)

Each time I’ve watched it the one thing that can never be denied is the fact that my father actually tried to kill me by letting me die.

The following is evidence from the footage that supports this claim:

As soon as I managed to get out of the water I ran to my father crying and immediately asked him, why didn’t you help me?

How did I know he saw me drowning and that his not saving me was a choice? Because when I came out of the water I saw the camera in his hand and zero concern on his face as he looked directly at me.

It wasn’t until I asked him that question that he immediately stopped recording and instantly shut the camera off.

My father loved to record everything when that camcorder was on. Why would he exclude the moment I verbalize that I was drowning and he didn’t help me?

If it was truly negligence on his part wouldn’t his concern as a father be on comforting me instead of making sure he stopped recording.

Wouldn’t he be too distracted with concern for me and relief that I even survived to care about whether or not the camcorder was still on?

But it was this last piece of evidence that changed the entire trajectory of the trust I had toward my father, permanently. Because I knew then that that man really wanted me to die. Someway, somehow.

The whole time I was drowning, you could hear my father talking with Emily’s mother — but that camcorder remained steady.

He was focused on me, despite that conversation.

The whole time I was drowning the camcorder was facing my direction

Pointed right at me.

What’s eery is you don’t see how I fell in.

What you see is the camcorder lift up as soon as I fall into the water and disappear under it. After that, that camcorder never moves.

And neither does my father.

Normally, when you’re holding a device while actively engaged in a conversation, you’re naturally going to move the device around… if you’re focused on your conversation.

But he wasn’t.

My father was focused on me.

He knew I was drowning.

He also knew I was notoriously terrified of being in deep water because I was scared of drowning. He knew this because a year prior, he had taken me to the beach with Jan.

My father grabbed my hand and walked me far out into the ocean, put me on his shoulders (he was 6’1), and just… fell backward into the water.

I panicked and started drowning.

He laughed before getting angry at me for being a “baby” and then taking me out of the water while I was hysterically crying.

I realize now that he was literally testing the waters.

…

The insidious reason I was taken to Disney World

My father would go on to make two more unsuccessful attempts on my life. Once, when I was eleven, and lastly, when I was thirteen.

I never forgot these attempts because of the method he kept trying to use to get rid of me.

In each case, my father conveniently left me in situations that easily could have, and was supposed to, cost me my life but in a way that would appear not only accidental but beyond his immediate control.

He wanted to get rid of me without going to jail for it.

This is why looking back it was odd that he wanted to celebrate his 60th birthday at Disney World, with me, when my birthday was just around the corner, in October.

Considering the fact that I was the child, it would’ve made much more sense for him to take me there for my birthday…

Until you really put what happened that day into perspective and realize just how premeditated this entire vacation was.

(Until you understand how dangerous the mind of a malignant narcissist truly operates.)

Having me die at the “happiest place on earth” (specifically, because we were at The Magic Kingdom) was my father’s morbid way of easing the blow of my murder.

In his mind, it was the least he could do for me to set me up to die somewhere nice and kid-friendly.

My murder was designed to happen on his birthday trip because my death was going to be his birthday gift to himself.

The tape was a souvenir.

About Me — Linda Sharp
The writer who has to write in order to stay alive — I am not kidding.
medium.com

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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