Author's Note: This article has mature and somewhat disturbing content, so read with discretion. Younger Whyvillians may want to have their parents read it beforehand. I apologize for offending anyone if I have in the process of my article. Y-mail me with any questions or concerns.
Sitting on the deck, I look out from underneath the shaded tree to see a small girl hopping on a hopscotch board. Her blond ringlets move as she jumps. And all I can do is look down at my dark chestnut hair and see that dark night.
You see, I used to be like her, carefree. And blond. But when I was nine, something changed about me.
My father was never the kind you imagine or wish for, you never look for this in a potential husband. He was the kind of man you would run away from. But I was little, I didn't know any better. And I stayed with him through whatever, no matter what he he did. Because in my eyes, in my dreams, he was that kind of guy. The one who would come home one day and kiss my mom on the cheek and give her a big smile.
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