I Screwed Up. Again. You're Shocked, I'm

Dearly Departed, Scarcely Lamented, Deeply Demented.

I Remember Hearing Myself Start To Whimper, A Five-year-old, Crouched By The Side Of The Road, Staring Into My Father's Eyes, Whimpering Because It Was So Dark And There Was No One Coming To Help, Whimpering Because My Mother Was Back In The Crushed Car, Not Moving, And My Father Was Lying Here In The Dirt, Not Answering Me, Not Holding Me, Not Comforting Me, Not Helping My Mother Get Out Of The Car, And There Was Blood, So Much Blood, And Broken Glass Everywhere, And It Was So Dark And So Cold And No One Was Coming To Help.

Just Show Him That I Didn't Need His Apology, I Guess. Show Him That I Was Okay. Better Than Okay. I Was Happy, In Spite Of Everything He'd Done To Me, And No, I Didn't Forgive Him. God Help Me, I Would Not Forgive Him.

That's What Being Crazy Was, Wasn't It? You Thought You Were Fine. Everyone Else Knew Better.

What's Wrong?" I Didn't Say A Word." Something's Up. What Is It?" Nothing." His Head Turned, Gaze Going To Mine. "yeah?" Yes." A Snort And He Returned To His Bowl.