Daddy, do you hate me? Is that why you do this? Is your hatred the reason I must sit here, every day, in this room, with this jacket on, answering stupid questions and giving generic answers? Is your hatred the reason why I have to deal with everyone looking at me oddly, whispering behind their hands and shaking their heads, talking about my poor parents?

Daddy, please tell them to get me out of this padded room. Please tell them to take off the straitjacket. I don't like the questions the doctor asks me, they make me sound crazy and I'm not, Daddy, please believe me. I don't like it at all.

Daddy, please let me out. I promise I won't answer the voices when they talk to me. I'll ignore the things I see that no one else does. I'll act like I'm your perfect little girl, and we're the perfect family, just like we used to.

Daddy, please don't let them lock me away forever.