My dad slapped me on his birthday. “what kind of w…

night at 11:30, Patricia would stand outside my bedroom door and whisper. I thought she was talking to me at first, apologizing for the cold treatment, the criticism, the way Gerald looked at me like I was defective merchandise. But one night, I opened the door while she was whispering. She didn’t see me. She was staring at a framed photo of the girl continue reading …