Daddy's Little Girl

Chapter One

It was pretty crazy, the fact that I was being forced into some dumb psychiatric clinic or I'd become an inpatient. Is that not against my right as a person to have free will? I guess it's because of the whole suicide situation. When your mom walks in on you holding a noose around your neck, it's a pretty scary moment and obviously she didn't know what to do.

I'm expected to talk about my feelings, I'm supposed to tell them about myself and talk about what's haunting me, well, everything. It started years ago. I was around five years old, my mom was giving me a bath with my favourite Winnie The Pooh bubble bath soap and I was splashing around the tub being as happy as I could be at that age. My mom was drying me with my bright blue towel and putting on my pyjamas, which at the time were these adorable pink pattern pants and some piggy slippers that we got from Walmart. She brought me to my bedroom, layed me down and kissed my forehead as she silently whispered "I love you very much princess but it's time to close your eyes and rest because daddy will be home soon, and you know how upset daddy can get."

Yes I knew. I knew exactly how upset daddy could get. Every day he spent hours beating her. If she didn't cook right, he'd throw the plate in her face and make her cook again. If the house wasn't clean he would force her onto her hands and knees and make her scrub the floor with a dish sponge, I was five, but in the pit of my stomach, I knew something was going to go wrong that night. I felt something was wrong. Something worse.