I knew this moment was coming; the moment when I would have to face him once again. Only now, I thought of wrapping my fingers around the thick construction of his neck or somehow placing that fear that I now had knowing I would be forced to stand across from him once again now directed to him. But where anger was expected and deserved against him, the truest emotion felt by me had been Regret. Regret for trusting-for trying, and for being so blindly naive to believe someone like him could lacquer his wicked ways into nonexistence and leave me as reason enough to keep it at bay. It would be this feeling that would drive me from that fetal position against the door, after hours of crying and placing blame on his father, him, and finally myself, that would allow me the courage needed to take
