9/21/04
I looked up at my dad with tears in my eyes.
“What’s wrong with me?” I asked him, holding up my hand for him to see. He began crying even harder. I looked down at my hand. It wasn’t there. Nothing was there..
“Daddy? Daddy please.” I was crying harder now too. I didn’t like seeing dad cry. It made me cry. I left him, unable to take any more of the pain. I left him sitting there on the couch, with a bottle in his hand. My daddy didn’t care about me anymore. Nobody cared about me. I was alone. Seven years old and I was alone.