“Really? To shelters?” I’d perked up, desperate to cling to a positive thing about him. I’d immediately let go, curling my spine, turning to face him. It’s a very gentle fabric.” He’d slapped my wrist, but not forcefully. I’d gasped in horror, clutching the fabric of the expensive sofa in my tiny fingers. Both its eyes were missing, and it looked like it didn’t have any teeth left. One of the dogs was lying in a pool of mud. In the commercial, they showed sad puppy faces and disfigured kittens staring at the cameras, begging to be helped. A commercial appeared on the screen, advertising a non-profit organization for abused and neglected animals. Breaking routine scared me, but the idea of living with a man I barely knew and was too terrified to ask to tuck me into bed was scarier, so I’d obediently sat next to him on the couch, as he’d mindlessly watched a finance show on CNN and flipped through his mail. Or that’s what she’d called downing a bottle of wine while staring at the circling plate in the microwave warming up our meal.Įverything felt eerie, askew, and dangerous. It was a rare fall afternoon when Jordan had come home on time and my mother was “cooking” dinner in the kitchen. Way before the whole thing with Theo happened. I WAS SIX WHEN I first realized there was something seriously wrong with my father.
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