I was 7 when my dad was killed in a drive by shooting. My grandmother never told me he was dead. It was always "Oh, sweetie, he'll be home in a few hours." and "Hailen, if you don't do all your chores, daddy will never come back."
She was a sick bitch who used my dead father as leverage to have her own little slave.
My dad was my hero in every way. And as all heroes could, he was able to do magnificent things. He was able to make me feel like all the danger in the world would never be able to reach me. He helped me learn that people will always try to leech off of you but that it takes a strong man to know where to draw the line when it comes to your generosity. In the short time that we had together, my dad taught me lessons that I've carried with me my whole life. God, I miss him.
But there were things I missed out on. My dad wasn't there to tell me what to do when I had a crush on a girl. He couldn't explain the tingling response my body had to the soft peck on the lips from my first girlfriend. He wasn't there to help me plan the perfect prom for Mason. I can't help but think that if my dad was still here, I wouldn't be the man I am now. I'd be good. I would have never hit her. I would have never hurt her in any way.
I don't want to be like this. Its not fair. I need help. I need my dad.
"Hailen. Hailen, honey, wake up." Mason's velvet voice rang sweetly in my ears.
I opened my eyes and I saw white again. And Mason wasn't there. It was Dumb Bitch again. But I didn't have the energy to rebut her attempt at being nice.
"Hey, why's the room spinning?"
