When I do, it makes my dad feel guilty so I always try to hide my tears. When I get to my room, I hide under the covers and pretend that the blankets have special powers that make me invisible. I hate Mr. Squiggle. I also hate my new nightie and those birds chirping outside my window in the morning. I don't like staring at the sky and I hate the colour blue.
Games are stupid and they're never any fun.
I hate his hairy, sweaty chest touching mine and that drool that drips down the side of his mouth when he's breathing funny. Most of all, I hate him. But my daddy loves me. Tomorrow he's taking his blonde bombshell to the circus and he says I can ride the pony as long as I want.