I've walked past this dining room many times.

When I was seven, I walked past it, out the door and to the car. We were headed to the hospital to see my Daddy. Mother didn't say at the time, but I know now that he was dying and I was leaving to say goodbye. I remember the passage through the room being a happy one, because we were visiting Daddy, but now, looking back, it has a very morbid, depressing tone to it. I got my locket that day, and inside is a small picture of my whole family: Mom, Daddy, Melanie, Garret, and me at the age of three. I still have it. It's one of the only things I didn't lose when Mother remarried.

At age ten, my Mom remarried. For a couple months, I still called her "Mom" and I called her new husband "Dad", but then something happened- a switch turned off and "Mom" became "Mother" and she wasn't very nice and was almost never home and when she was home, she was either asleep or under the influence of something. "Dad" became "Stepmonster" and I tried everything to stay away from him.

This room, I came into many times to help him with what he needed. I won't go into details- that will come later. Let's just say, he hurt me.