Shannon
“Mommy, hungry,” my daughter said. She didn’t talk much. Living with Frank kept her suppressed. She tried not to cry when he was home. Only when he hurt her did she cry. I should have left earlier, but I literally had nowhere to go. I have no family at all. The people who I thought were my parents were old. They claimed that they had me late in life. They were good people. I never went without. When I was twenty-three, they died, one right after the other. First my dad died, and then my mother, who loved him dearly, died six months later. Frank was the son of the landlord that owned the house we lived in. I thought that my parents paid off the house, but it turns out they sold their house to a man that was buying up property but allowed them to still live in the house I
