Paper Butterflies

Prologue

(A/N: Had to repost this story, for some reason it wouldnt show up in my works. Oh, well. This story is unedited so beware of my not so fine tuned writing skillls. Hope you guys like it. Thanks for reading. Comment and tell me what you think!!!!! )

               It started early. The changes were small and slow coming. Over time it grew, until what I saw was unrecognizable. Even before, I remember the harshness and the anger. The tension that thickened the air around us and a home that felt like a cage in every sense of the word.

               We knew what was approaching, and the adjustment would be painful.

               But when it happened it came like a tidal wave. It was gaining speed and growing more noticeable every second before suddenly it crashed all at once. Just a week later was when I really saw it, the final confirmation of change. We, my father and I, watched as they lowered her casket.

               The illness had finally won and took her away from us. I didn’t realize it until now that it wasn’t her illness that killed her, it was his.

               When it was over my father looked at me. At first sadness covered his features, his forehead crinkled as his resolve shifted. And without any warning at that point he was nothing but anger.

               Although now I know that there was more than enough warning, but it was ignored for love.

               Disgust and hatred now looked down at me. Appalled with his daughter he turned away, looking longingly at his wife’s grave.  

               At that point I knew that everything would be different. I would never be daddy’s little girl, only a face to remind him of what he no longer had, of what he did. As I got older it became clearer. He would always tell me I was wrong in every way, never good enough to be considered his. Oh, how he wished he had a son and not a weak, worthless daughter. Or better yet, not a child at all. And quite often, I feel the same. How easy it would be if I was gone. I was burden in his eyes.

Any contact with my father resulted in pain. Fear was rampant in my mind, never leaving me alone. It was something that I learned to live with but can’t ignore. That’s what my life had become.

               A series of fear and pain.

If only people saw the real pain I felt, and not the hood I use to hide my secrets. To protect the only family I have left. But that’s a silly thought, considering no one notices me, I’m invisible to the rest of the world. Honestly, I didn’t know if I liked it better that way or wished someone would help me.