It takes me a moment to see the stain on my newly bought skirt. I lick the tip of my thumb rubbing it trying to make it disappear; guess today is just not my day. I hear tussling down the hall “dads home” I tell myself. He would always let the town know when he was home. Throwing books glasses and yelling profanity down the street.

He gave up, he let go and turned two faced after his first born died. I missed her as much as he did but I live on knowing that if I try to remember the way her blond hair would get stuck in my hair brush. Or how she would steal my shirt to wear to a party... The bad things were now the only things I had left of her.
“Mary!” his voice rumbled outside my door
“yes?” my hands were shaking ,I never knew what his plans were to do to me. Hurt me ,scare me.
“Have a good day” was I dreaming was the man that passed out in front of me every morning actually changing or was this a phase. And he would soon go back to his old dastardly ways of drunken bar fights and abuse?