He hates me, He hates me, He hates me.
I remember writing this in February immediately after I got of the phone to my dad. You see me and my dad don't really have a good relationship but I guess, I've always had this concept of family should have something to do with each other even if you don't "get along" so to speak.
Anyways got off the phone after just being verbally abused by my father (but no one else needed to know that) I ran to my room crying, sat down on the side of my bed with my head in my hands thinking "what the hell have I possibly done to even have the slightest of chances to deserve this" but I knew it was only the little voices inside of my head that were going to answer me but still kept asking and eventually the little voice gave in and said to me "you know he hates you" I was still fighting the feeling of wanting to drive to his house and physically murder him with my two bare hands.
By this stage I was on the ground balling my eyes out with no one to help me but myself. I kept thinking "I should tell them" "I should tell them" but no my conscience was getting the better of me, again.
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I know this was a short chapter but I just want to know what you guys think of it to start of with.
This is my first story on wattpad so please no mean comments
Love Stephie
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Every Betrayal Begins With A Trust
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