It all began in 1997, when my mother died; I was merely three years old. When she died, my father changed, he became angry and drunk, I couldn’t comprehend it at the time, but now I realize that what he was doing was wrong, I didn’t know that fathers weren’t supposed to act this way. I didn’t know what it was like to have a father that cared if you were dead or alive, I still don’t. By the time I was five he became violent. One day I came home from school and he wasn’t home, I had no idea where he was, to tell the truth I didn’t really care, I knew he would just scream at me anyway. So, I walked out to the kitchen and made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I went out to the living room and ate my sandwich out there on the carpet and turned on the TV. About half an hour later I hear a car pull into the driveway, it’s a really squeaky car, I know it’s him, I look out the window as he stumbles out of the car, even I could tell he was either drunk or high, it was quite obvious. I jumped up and ran to my room slamming the door behind me. I sat against the door, hoping he would forget I was even there. “Erica!” I heard him yell, “Where the hell are you, little girl? If you don’t get out here, I swear.” He didn’t have to tell me what he was going to do, I already knew it would suck, but I don’t dare make a sound. I hear him stomping down the hallway. “I swear when I find you!” I close my eyes and hope that he doesn’t find me. Then I hear him pulling on my door, trying to get in. “Girl! Let me in! I know you’re in there.” I get off the door and run across the room and get in the fetal position against the wall, suddenly my door comes smashing down. “I fucking knew you were in here!” “I’m sorry daddy.” I scream, “I didn’t do nothing wrong.” “For some reason I don’t believe that!” he walks over and picks me up by the collar of my shirt, I look into his eyes, I can see the burning of fury and I know something bad is going to happen to me. He throws me across the room into the opposite wall, my head begins to throb, I can feel wetness around the pain, I reach my hand up to it, it burns, I look at my hand, and it is covered with blood. He walks over and kicks me and kicks me until I pass out. * * * * I wake up in a room that is so white, this man in a white coat is talking to my father, I feel like I’ve been here before, I feel like I know that man. “She was riding her bike and she fell on to the cement, I rushed her over here and soon as it happened.” How could this man not realize that he is lying? “Yes, well she’ll just need some stitches and to be here for a few days.” The man says to him and then he leaves, my father leaves with him, I start bawling, wondering how can someone believe him, am I the only one who knows how evil he is? Then the man comes back in. “I’m Dr. James, you’re daddy had to step out for the time being I’m sure he’ll be back.” I start crying again. “I know it hurts and I know you want your daddy but I promise it’ll be ok.” I want to tell him but I can’t, I don’t know why but I can’t.