Please excuse grammar errors, I am half asleep when I write most of the time. (:
One of the first things I remember was my mother leaving us. I couldn’t have been more than five. One moment she was tucking me in and the next, she was gone. My dad spent a lot of time at the local bar over the next few years. When he wasn’t there or at the station, he was at church trying to buddy up with God. I hadn’t seen my mother since she left, over twelve years ago. She wrote me a couple times a year, hoping that would be enough contact for me. It wasn’t, it never would be. I needed her, she was my mother. She was supposed to be my shoulder to cry on, the one to support me when puberty hit me like a train. But she wasn’t. She didn’t have any need for me, unlike my necessity for her. She had gotten remarried and had supplied me with two perfect looking half siblings who took my place in her heart.
So it was just my dad and I, it had been this way for nearly thirteen years. He’d never gotten over my mom, he had had a few girlfriends here and there but none lasted long. As for me, he was ultra protective of me. He didn’t want to lose me like he’d lost mom. He had nothing to worry about, as much as I desired to, I wasn’t going anywhere. The hellhole of Wildewood was my home, whether I liked it or not.