It was a warm and bright day at my father's house when I was riding my bike on the hot paved road. I was just about to turn the corner when a silver Lexus came speeding down the street, when he tried to stop he left big black tire marks on the road. He didn't stop fast enough and my bike and I went flying across the street and I hit the hard, hot ground. When I looked down at my leg I had thick, red blood gushing out. I thought that in the moment I was going to faint.

When I was around the young age of eleven my dad had walked out of my life for the third time. He didn't say goodbye, the next weekend he was supposed to have me he never came to pick me up, not that I was upset about it because he was abusive and not a very good man. He always told me he loved me but I never understood why you would hurt someone you love. It was that weekend after he left he texted me saying he loves me and that he left with good intentions. It was 3 years later that I realized everything he had ever said to me was a lie and that love is something that only happened in the books where the girl has a great dad and a person to love her. It was that day that I told myself that no one would ever love me because there is no such thing as love. I wish I had noticed earlier and saved myself from the nightmare I was in called life, I wish I could go back and warn myself so I could have had my wall up sooner so I wouldn't be so haunted by the word now.

Ten months ago my father had attempted to contact me again and even tried putting me in counseling with him so he could "fix his mistakes" when I got the call saying he was back and wanted custody of me I lost it, I cried and I didn't talk to many people for a long time, even to this day I'm still not fully over the words he told me. When I first got the text In my mind I was thinking on how my life was going back downhill, and that I wouldn't be able to get back on my feet again. When i walked into that office and saw him sitting in the brown chair I knew I had to do something about it. So when I sat down and told the counselor my childhood, and cried threw the whole thing, I looked up and him and said "no, I will not come with you. I have been threw so much and all you're doing is making my life worse" to say he was shocked would be an understatement because I had always been afraid to talk back to him in fear of another beating. When I looked at the counselor and said "I don't want to come back tell the courts it's not good for me to be with him" that felt like a weight of my chest because I was holding in all my feelings and secrets about my childhood it was holding me down. It felt exhilarating to do something about my father and to know I don't ever have to see him again. I walked out of the office with my head held high and I didn't look back.