VIOLET’S POVWhen my mother died, a part of me died with her, I think, even though I didn’t know her then. But then, I felt all kinds of emotions that were not positive or good for someone my age.Every part of it. Because of my father. He sure did his best to remind me that I was her killer.From anger, to brokenness, to pain down to neglect from the one and only person meant to protect my little heart, and love me regardless of their own pain.I mean, that is what adults do, right? They love their children regardless of the pain they are passing through.Not this one, not my father.And the worst part, it was that I understood to some extent why he was acting like that. And I didn’t want to blame him but I did.It couldn’t have been my fault she died, could it?And yet it was.Today was her death anniversary, as it was also my birthday, and he was supposed to go with me to her grave. We were supposed to see her together, but he pushed me away, refusing to take me with him.Understan
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