Prologue
Blaire Evans led a troubled life. When she was only ten years old her mother lost her battle with breast cancer. Blaire sat next to her mother in the sickeningly clean, and blindingly white hospital room while holding her mother's freezing hands as she watched her take her last breath. The months proceeding her mother's death were the hardest on her father, who had turned to alcohol to numb the pain and loneliness that her mother's death had left him with.
The first time that "it" happened was about a year later. He had came home drunk from the bar, and stumbled through the kitchen door where Blaire was diligently working on her math homework.
"Why haven't you cooked me any supper you little skank!" He slurred while grabbing his daughter's thick auburn hair, which was currently disheveled due to her lack of guidance on proper hygiene.Tears stung her eyes as he drug her to the stove where he slammed her head against the cold, unused burner. That was the first time he had beaten her.
As she collapsed on the ground in tears, he stalked off to his own bedroom, slamming the door as he walked in. Blaire was left on the hard, tiled floor, paralyzed with shock and fear.
Eventually, Blaire found the strength to get up and go to her own room.She walked across her barren bedroom and examined herself in her mirror that laid on her wall. Her delicate features were already turning purple. She realized she wouldn't be able to go to school for at least a week until she could cover most of it with her makeup.
She padded to her bed and reached underneath her mattress to grab her dairy with her shaky hands. After her mother's death she learned that getting out all her thoughts and feelings in a dairy was the best method to deal with the pain. She began her newest entry, scrawling each letter carefully, letting her tears spill over and settle onto the paper.
December 5, 2004
Dear Dairy,
I don't understand what I did to make him so mad. I can't believe he would hurt me like he did. He is supposed to be my protector, he is supposed to be the strong one. The man I see daily isn't the same man that I've known my whole life, my mother's death broke him and I'm beginning to fear that he can't be fixed. I don't know whether to feel angry or hurt, all I can do is hope that this will never happen again. I can pray that this will be forgotten and put in the past. I know that I can forgive him but, can he ever forgive my mom for leaving us?
She placed the diary back under the mattress and collapsed on her bed, pulling the covers up to her neck with all of her clothes still on. She stared out her dirty window at the full moon, until exhaustion flooded over her and her eyelids slowly closed shut.
