I love you,
he says.
I love you too,
she says.

Then he changes.
He’s no longer the man,
that rocked me in his arms.
He’s a stranger.

“You’re daddy’s little girl,”
He always said,
with,
what I see now as,
fake joy.

Now,
I’m no longer “daddy’s little girl.”
I’m the screwup,
the mistake,
the mess up of the family.

I’m the one he screams at,
the one he take his anger out on,
the scrapes and bruises,
are my proof.

Everyone wonders,
why am I so sad?
My dad is the star,
the golden boy of the town.
No one see behind closed doors.

So,
no one knows the truth.
He expects me to be happy,
to ignore the pain.
When my sadness shows,
he yells,
“If you don’t start being happy,
I’ll make sure you’re gone!”

I was home alone.
‘This is my chance,
It’s time to take control and be happy.
I’m tired.
I’m tired of being his punching bag.
I’m tired of being “daddy’s little girl.”’

One step,
I was out the door.
Two more,
off the porch.

I look back,
one last time,
at my own,
house of horrors.

I know what I must do.
With my bag on my back,
I run.
I run as fast as my feet can carry me.
I never look back.
Ever.