“I was embarrassed!” I’d let out a hollow laugh that echoed off the walls and came back to me. “And I think some part of me still loved him, my father. I didn’t want him to go away. This was all before he became very violent. Before the drinking got worse. He was still… he could still be, sometimes, a loving father.” I inhaled loudly, sickened by my own words. Sickened by the fact that I missed him, no matter what had happened, no matter what he’d done. “It only happened one time, and sometimes I wonder if he even remembers what he did. Sometimes I feel like I made it all up in my mind. If it
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