Dear Alana (Interracial Romance)

Prologue

Dear Samantha,

My father touched me again.

He was drunk and slurring his words like he used to when you were here. He touched my hair and kissed my cheek, daring me to move.

He told me I was beautiful.

More beautiful than you were.

He said he loved my body, even if the world didn't.

"You remind me of her." He told me one morning.

I knew he was talking about you because he's always comparing me to you these days. Telling me how much better I am than you are.

Telling me all the things he once told you.

I don't like it.

I'm 17 years old and well aware of right from wrong.

My father thinks I'm so naive. Too stupid to realize how much of a low, disgusting man you must be to take interest in your daughter...

Before I began to write this note to you, I preformed the act of introspection upon myself. I suppose the process was of great necessity, seeing as how it allowed me the ability to see within myself and sort my emotions towards the way I must live.

Perhaps I have gone about my life's situation too casually. Suppose I was negligent to have never considered involving the police but even if I had, what am I to say?

To involve my pitiful lifestyle into the boundaries of their work life seemed to be of such inconvenience just a year back.

He ensured me that the police would not help me.

That the police forgot about people like me. Later, he told me that I was never truly placed in a position to ever need help.

I regret believing him.

Dear Samantha, school life is just as unhealthy as home is. Its my senior year and I still have no friends.

No one is interested in me.

I am uninterested in everyone.

In gym Mr. Smith recorded everyone's height and weight.

I'm 4'9, 166 pounds.

He promised he'd keep our information a secret. He swore it was to keep track of our progress in his class. Mr. Smith wants everyone to either lose weight or build muscle in his class.

Its our choice.

Of course the majority of the girls complained about needing to shed 10 pounds before the summer and the guys chose to gain muscle. When it came time for me to express what my goal would be for his class, the room fell silent and everyone stared at me.

"And what would you wish to accomplish here in my class Alana?" Mr. Smith inquired with a warm smile.

I like Mr. Smith.

He's always so careful with me and he never makes me feel inconsequential.

He's the only man that I know who cares about me.

After some time of mentally debating with myself, I went to Mr. Smith after class and told him that I would build muscle.