Friday, October 1st 1875
Cornwall, England
Dear diary,
I don't have time to write a lot because Father got mad at me, again. He went fishing and I had to prepare it. I prepared the fish and we only had a little bit of salt left and I thought that I was allowed to use it, and I did. When the fish was ready to eat, Father took the first bite and his face changed from loving father who cares about his children, except one, to a face he makes when he sees that child he doesn't love, me. I'm the one who, apparently, ruined the whole family.
He stood up, came towards me and slapped me right in the face and shouted: "WHO TOLD YOU TO PUT THAT LITTLE BIT OF DAMN SALT IN THE FISH?! YOU PERFECTLY KNOW THAT THAT WAS OUR LAST BIT OF SALT, THAT I EARNED EXTREMELY DIFFICULTLY WITH A LOT OF MONEY AND YOU USE IT AS YOU DON'T CARE A DAMN ABOUT YOUR FAMILY!" he slapped me again. I tried very hard not to cry, but I just couldn't help it. George and Abigail couldn't do anything otherwise they'd get punished too. Of course in another way, but I don't blame them. When I cried, Father took me to the corner of the room, where we sleep and told me I'd have to go to sleep without supper. I hate it. I hate my parents, I hate my life, I hate everything. The only reason I haven't walked away is because of my brothers and sisters. That little bit of extra money I get, is for them. Not for Mother and Father. Damn, I think I've woken them up. I got to go.
Sincerely,
Demelza Watson
