one last try » taylor swift

Prologue

Grace

I felt my eyes sting for the third time tonight. Why did everything horrible always have to happen to me?

My father had just been notified that he would be deployed on another mission to some country that was too hard for me to pronounce.

I was used to this type of thing. Daddy had been in the army for as long as I could remember, and Mommy said that even before I was born he served for our country.

I was proud to have him. He always gave me his old camouflage uniforms and caps to keep, and I loved marching around the house in them, acting like I was in the war too.

I wanted to be just like him.

Our small little family moved around quite a bit, since his job always made him live in new places.

Right then we were living in New York City, in one of the more run-down parts. I loved everything about my house.

We had a small apartment with only two rooms, one for me and one for Mommy and Daddy. My room was so tiny that you couldn't fit much else beside the bed in it, and Mommy and Daddy's wasn't much bigger. But I liked it that way.

I didn't care that it was small, because I had everything I ever wanted.

My family loved me, and I got to live in the biggest city around.

My room was white, the paint slowly chipping off the walls. There was a few pictures and posters hanging on the walls of my Daddy and I, as well as Mommy and I. It wasn't decorative. It was cold.

But I didn't mind.

Daddy hadn't been deployed for almost a year now, so we took advantage of every day with him. I thought he was here to stay, forever. I didn't think he would be sent away again.

But, like always, I was wrong. That very night a letter came in the mail declaring that Daddy had to leave the following morning for an emergency mission.

I knew that Mommy was hurting inside, she didn't like to be here alone without Daddy, but she hid her tears. I let mine flow down my cheeks as I sobbed into his chest.

"Pwease don't weave me again Daddy," I choked out. "I don't want you to weave."

Daddy didn't say anything. I knew that he didn't want to leave either.

But he had to. He had no choice.

I could see Mommy's face falling apart.

Each time he left, it got worse. Sometimes the pressure put on her was so much that she would take it out on me while he was gone.

Last time, I was whipped and beaten. I'm not mad at her though, because I know it's hard for her. But it hurts. It still does. It hurts to think that my own Mommy would do such a thing.

The worst was when she hurt herself. She would take knives and cut open her skin until blood was gushing out. She told me if I called the police, she'd kill me.

So I never did. I didn't try to help her, because she didn't want help.

And Daddy knew none of this.

He didn't know that she hurt me, didn't know that she hurt herself.

I didn't think he ever would know.

Our family wasn't perfect. It never would be. But I loved my family more than anything else.

Sure, I'd never gone to a movie. I'd never had a tea party. Never had a play date. But that's okay, I know that we don't have much money, and we can't waste it on me.

I'm the least important in my family, anyways.

I leapt backwards from Daddy's arms and just looked at him. I was going to miss him so much.

Mommy hugged him as well, but didn't say anything.

"Go to sleep, Grace. You look tired," Mommy said in her not-so-friendly tone.

I wasn't tired at all, but I didn't dare say it.

So I obliged and padded to my room, getting under the covers. I didn't own pajamas, so I slept in my day clothes.

Neither Mommy nor Daddy came in to sing to me that night.

I buried myself beneath the cushions and silently cried.

Daddy would be leaving early in the morning, before I woke up. I wouldn't see him for a long, long time.

I would be alone with Mommy for a long, long time.

I was tired of staring at my blank walls every day. I was tired of getting beaten and not being able to stop it. I was tired of being useless.

I couldn't help thinking what my life would be like if I had lots of money and a loving Mommy and Daddy...

A three-year-old really shouldn't be imagining such things.

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Hey! It's Alice here and here's the preview for my new story!!

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