The Letter. Pt. Two

Dear dad,

She throws stuff at me, you promised me I’d be safe with you. But really, this is living Hell. Tomorrow it’s my birthday, I bet she will scream at me. I bet she will hate me even more, I can’t wait to get out if this Hell. It’s awful.

I’m still waiting for the day where I can move out…or maybe, maybe I should just run away. Right now, I would rather die than stay. It’s the worst feeling ever, feeling as if you could just die and the person who calls herself your “mother” wouldn’t care.

She’s laughing, but as soon as she come into my room she screams. Of course, you don’t hear. Dad.

My birthday wish for tomorrow will be you reading this, realizing that I want to die and that she’s ruining my life. Her, the woman you married instead of my own mother, the woman that tries to be my mother but will never be. Please help me. I beg you. Stop her. Stop this.

You don’t notice, do you?