The Truth

Victoriå

I laid in the middle of my room, tears falling down on either side of my face.

I was alone now. And all of my depression and traumas were hitting me with full force.

Sniffling, I picked up the picture of my father and I.

This day had to be the worst day of my life. My father had come to my school, drunk, later that day.

He beat me, in front of everyone and nobody did anything.

After that, I just stopped expecting people to help me.

Running a hand through my hair, I got up and went into the kitchen.

Then I dropped the picture frame, breaking it.

I grabbed the picture, lit the stove then watched the picture burn in front of me.

My father wasn't a father. He was just a man that had a lot to learn about life.

Or maybe he wasn't a man at all.

To get my mind off of things, I started cleaning up.

I broke down a few times during the process but I got it done.

I went into my "mother's" room, cleaning up and searching for the signs I've missed all these years.

But there were none. My m