You came by today — which was uncalled for. Mum who tried to act sober, invited you in, but you softly declined and that made me relax. I heard you from the kitchen, and all I was thinking about as I listened to you talk from the porch was that I don't want to go to your house.

It's been a long time since we've had one of your family's invitations. I barely even remember. All I remember now is your hard glare and his digging fingers and the mocking laughter from everyone that came after that day.

I don't think I should go.

I don't want you all to notice that something's wrong with me.