I don’t head home; I just head to another park. This one’s even farther from where Evangeline lives, so there’s no way she’ll follow me here and, even if this park is closer to home, there’s no way my “parents” will find me… it’s the weekend, they never leave the house on the weekend. Unless, of course, they run out of their stash. But that doesn't happen often, so I’m not all that worried.

I sit myself down on a swing, my drawings next to me, leaning against the stairs that lead to the slide. This park has a couple kids with their parents here, but they’re all too young and tiny to play on this playground, so I’m not worried about my drawings being flipped through. I do, of course, cover them so all the parents see is a blank page.

My feet kick back and forth a bit—like when I was little and attempting to start up the swing on my own. I can almost imagine my daddy walking over and pushing me like he used to. I was his baby girl; his Princess Philena and he did all he could to make me smile and protect me.

That is, until lung cancer took him away from me.

I open my eyes to see the sky above me and feel the slightly chilly almost-Autumn breeze against my face. The sun is shining and for a little while, my muscles were straining as I smiled at the memories when a hug meant love, not groping, and Daddy actually meant something positive. There’s a stream of tears steadily rolling down my cheeks and I dig my heels into the sawdust to stop myself swinging. My eyes look towards my sketchbook, though I really don’t see it. I am unfocused, so I really should head home. Perhaps punishment will refocus my mind, or, at least, the sting of my razor will.