We've updated our Content Guidelines.
Review the latest guidelines to keep sharing stories safely.
Father...

Father...

  • WpView
    Reads 18
  • WpVote
    Votes 1
  • WpPart
    Parts 1
WpMetadataReadMatureComplete Thu, Oct 1, 2015<5 mins
WpInfo
Fiction
Social Themes
Why am I not as important to you as her kids? I'm sorry I cry for you to be in my life, sorry I'm depressed, I'm sorry that I'm fed up with your bullshit. you wanna drink? go for it. but I am not gonna sit home with HER kids while you go out and get drunk. I'm not dealing with it. I've had enough. I'm your daughter not your babysitter. I don't care. you don't have to be in my life anymore. I will not cry for you. I will not call you or text you. I will not wonder why you pick them over me. it doesn't matter anymore. I'm over it. I'm over the tears and the cutting. where were you when I dropped to the floor in tears because I was getting bullied? where were you when I needed school clothes. where were you when I called you 20 different times because I needed you to pick me up. I could tell you 100 times how I feel about your actions but I already have, and of course you don't care.
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • The Text
  • Run, Fight, Repeat
  • Finding Purpose (+18) ✔️
  • Saving them
  • The Possessive Gang Leaders Princess
  • Boarding School
  • Broken Pieces
  • I'm Sorry
  • Her New Life
The Text

"You are a worthless piece of trash! We should've gotten rid of you when we had the chance!" My abusive dad shouted, slapping me with all of his might. My name is Chloe Adams. Both of my parents have abused me my entire life. I'm covered in bruises, cuts, and burns from head to toe, but I've learned how to cover them up. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever escape this hell hole. "Yeah you should've." I agreed, whispering under my breath. "What was that!?" He yelled even louder than before. "N-Nothing." I stuttered, afraid of his reaction. I don't want to be pushed down the stairs again. The last time that happened, I broke my wrist. They didn't even take me to the hospital. I had to bandage it myself. "That's what I thought! Go fetch me a beer!" He ordered. There comes a moment when you don't want to stop. When you don't want to get better. You just don't care anymore. Read to find out how one small yet huge text can change Chloe's outlook on this magical journey we call life.

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines