"Daddy, what are you drinking?"
My father set his wine glass down on the kitchen counter, the red liquid sloshing around in the cup.
"I'm drinking juice sweetheart."
My eyes lit up and a give him my puppy-eyed look.
"Can I have some?"
My father shakes his head and chuckles softly.
"No Vanessa, this is a bitter juice that was made for adults only."
I frowned and tilted my head to the side in confusion.
"Isn't drinking bitter stuff bad for you?"
He cracked a sad smile and he ripped the rubber band off from around his newspaper.
"It is, but I drink it because it makes me forget the things that I don't want to remember."
YOU ARE READING
The Girl Who Couldn't Speak ✓
ContoMama told me that I was a beautiful girl when I was little. Mama said that I had the prettiest tan skin, soft wavy black hair, and the most enchanting emerald eyes. She always called me her bundle of joy. Then she got very sad when she told me that...
