Dear Dad,

I think I'm your daughter and I'm not sure how I feel about you, I'm not even sure why I'm writing you this. I'm pondering those two things as I sit here at broken down desk with light cigarette smoke from mom climbing the walls of our apartment. I'll eventually find the reason why once I finish this letter. Your face is something I’ll never know, stranger. Our lives parted close to ten years ago; we haven’t talked nor have we seen pictures of each other since.
I should first off explain who I am now, instead of the little girl who you tried to know before you left. Hopefully you still remember, but my name is Ebony. The sixth year of me being alive happened to be the year you left us too, being ten years since, I’m now sixteen. I ended up a good kid, just misguided. You know, a lot of people don't like me and that is including the rest of our family, mom and your son who is now 21, Dee. In fact, if only you could hear about what their screaming about now. Drugs. It’s always about drugs, Dad. Everyday back and forth “Where the hell the money at, Dee?” screams Mom while Dee fires back something to vulgar for this letter. This house is bad enough without the constant ear-piercing screaming that can probably be heard swirling all around in South Chicago. It’s mortifying.
Dad, not only am I hated because of who my family is but I’m hated because I am me. I’m Ebony and I never knew that was going to be a problem. I try hard in school, I look for real jobs, and I don’t drink or smoke unlike the rest of my peers. No friends, no real family, it’s all me. All me, all the time, all alone. There have been thoughts in my mind to join a gang to protect myself, but then I thought that could have been a contradicting plan. I have a different plan in mind now; this is actually something I wanted to tell you about…
“Ebony, what do you think you’re doing?” as her mom slams in into her room unannounced with lite cigarette in hand, “You are so damn lazy. Homework, really? You’re actually doing your homework? Where do you expect to go in life, Ebony? Your teachers don’t actually care about you or if you do your homework or not. You’re just wasting everyone’s time now, do the things I asked you to do around this apartment.” She crashes the door shut with only leftover cigarette smoke spinning around in Ebony’s room leaving her speechless. No attempted response from Ebony, like usual…
I never imagined at age sixteen I would be contemplating whether to run away from my life. I also never thought at the age sixteen I would be trying to grow up on my own without someone who cares about me, so I had to make a plan. My plan is to run away. I couldn’t tell you where I want to run away too, but anywhere is better than this house. Not every house is a home, and this is most definitely not my home either. A home is where your heart is. You could live in the most beautiful house in the world, but doesn’t necessarily have to be a home. You’re supposed to share your house with the people you love, feel welcomed, and look forward to going at the end of the day which makes it a home. The outside of my house is run down, infested with cockroaches, shattered windows and has the stench of old carpet that was flooded with lake water, and inside lives a family who’s infected with hate. You could now say that the outside of our house matches the inside of our “home”. It’s time for me to leave…
… As Ebony dropped her pencil onto the desk next to the letter, she quietly walked to her door and pressed one ear gently against it. Listening for any type of ruckus, she would walk back to her desk and pick the pencil up and start writing again, but the outside of her door was quiet. “Surprising” she whispered to herself exiting her own room. Quickly scurrying through the three bedroom, one bath apartment she currently lived in, she tried looking for the safe which her mom kept the drug money in. She heard her brother and mom screaming about this enough times that she knew it would be around somewhere. Opening every cabinet, checking behind every broken door and under Dee’s bed she wasn’t able to find what she was looking for. Ebony’s mind kept racing about the ifs; what if I get caught and the buts; but maybe I’m making a wrong decision here. With her mind still racing, she kept looking.
Finally approaching her mom’s room, she put one hand on the slightly opened door and pushed open. There it was, the safe stuck out like a sore thumb in her mom’s room. The last time Ebony entered this room felt as long as her dad has been gone from their family. It didn’t matter what the contents were inside her mom’s room as long as she could open that safe. Without hesitation, Ebony grabbed the safe and threw it at the wall revealing the anger she has suppressed for years. Like everything else in her life, the safe was already broken and opened wide for her to see. Standing there looking down at that safe, Ebony finally felt like she had control and there was no stopping or turning back for what she just had done. Without counting, she grabbed every dollar bill in sight and ran out of her mom’s room…
Picking up her pencil again, she began to furiously write.
Dad, maybe I do belong in this family. I’m a crook, just like the rest of them. But I’m a crook that does not want to be caught. I just checked the money I stole from mom, I thought it was fair, you and her both stole a potentially great life away from me. There’s about two thousand dollars in my pocket right now which will be spent on food, bus rides, and places to stay. I’ve been on my own long enough that this adventure will not seize my life even farther off track. Since you started your own life with a new family, I decided you’re my role model. Despite whether that was sarcasm or not, that’s exactly what I’m going to do too. Why did only one person in this family get a chance and that was you with a new life, a new family, a new job, and not only a new house, but a new home.
As I’ve been writing this I’ve also been packing up some of the things I own into a small leather backpack I have own my whole life. I stashed the money on the bottom of the backpack with items of clothes packed aimlessly on top. Since I finished packing, I think it is time to finish this letter too…
Actually, I’ve been talking about myself a lot in this letter. All you must be reading now is “blah, blah, blah”. Dad, how are you? How’s your perfect family, your perfect life? The burbs, what are they like? I guess there is always time to find that one out. Oh, yeah, I think I found the reason I wrote this letter. I wanted to talk to someone, someone who doesn’t know me anymore, or will never know me. If you report me missing and someone comes looking for me, I’ll run even farther way knowing that I’m only cared about when I’m gone and missing. I just hope this letter gets to you. Don’t mind the crinkles on this letter; it was crumpled up one to many times to see if it was actually going to be sent out. I think it’s time to go…
Looking up from the last paragraph of her letter she wrote to her dad, she heard her mom walk in and pace quickly to her room. Hearing a scream she’s never heard before, Ebony was alarmed that her mom knew she stole that money. It was a scream of panic and anger. Now Ebony’s mom paced even harder to her room, slamming the door open. For a first time, Ebony didn’t let her mom speak leaving Ebony in defeat. Sliding quickly past her mom standing in the door way she sprinted. She sprinted making it too her front door, down the stairs and onto the street to run to the red line with a smile on her face the whole time… There was no returning for Ebony’s old life…
Well dad, hope this letter makes it to you soon.
Love, Ebony