22 years ago, it happened.
My daughter stopped speaking to me.
It was not my choice, nor my fault.
Her father had managed to convince her of things that were completely untrue.
Azhure didn’t speak to me for a whole year.
One year it took for her to gain the courage to step away from her father.
She’s stronger than I am; it took me thirteen years to step away.
21 years ago, it happened.
My daughter returned to me.
It was not my doing. She returned to me.
Skinny, bruised, broken.
I took my daughter in my arms 20 years ago, and I cried.
20 years ago, it happened.
He returned to me.
It was not my doing.
Excerpt from: Angellica McLloyd – Memoirs
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