Emy L

Locked cabinets and open hearts

My dad lives in a desolate excuse for a house; it’s a small brick shack in an even smaller neighborhood, almost in the woods. The one of many horrible memories I have, was day very common to me, I must go to this house, stressful, pitiful, and scary. It was winter, colder than most and I was prepared to freeze in my room. A room filled with the feeling of being alone and forgotten.