She was sitting there in her room, starring at the wall, listening to the sounds, coming out of the kitchen. These sounds that made her feel save in this little house that seemed to be perfect when he wasn't there. He. She never called him "Dad", because he wasn't worth it. He first made a cut into her heart. Then a hole and it grew bigger and bigger with every sentence, with every hit. First she cried, asking why, but then she was quite. Didn't spoke a word since he broke her family. "Smiling-Mother" wasn't real anymore. More a body, working so hard to carry us through life. Not even crying, just tired. Tired of life. Tired of him. Tired of living.
