I was born in 64. my father was 24, I believe my mother was 20. My mother loved my father more than anything this earthly world could offer. She would have done anything to please my dad.

My dad wanted a son. He made it very clear that either he was getting a son or a coon dog, I'm reasonably sure my mother was not equipped to give birth to a coon dog. My dad was not the nicest fellow in the world and I'd go so far as to call him a self absorbed, narcissistic, abusive controller, who could never keep his worm in his pants.

He neglected, ignored, and physically abused my mom. She has never admitted the physical abuse, but I wasn't born blind.

I was born in a small mountain town in Colorado. My dad was a cop. My mom was a victim. I was a ....princess. I guess when he seen me I must have been cuter than a coon dog and he loved me. He all but forgot my mom when I came about, he could only focus on the family member that couldn't really look in his eyes. I as a baby couldn't see who he was, that made me more lovable. I remained lovable thru wife number 5. Weather it was wicked witch number 5 or the fact that I was becoming a young lady, he deserted me.

I had always been close to dad, He always showed me that he loved me, but one day he put serious distance between us. I heard him and the witch screaming over the attention he paid me. He never paid attention again. I still worshiped him.

One morning he lost his mind because I sniffed my nose while making my bed before school. (we weren't allowed to cry) he beat me until I cried and then beat me til I quit. He sent me to school, I hid in a stall in the bathroom. I was eventually found by a teacher, taken to the office and because he worked for the government I was sent home. I won't go into what happened then.

I never quit adoring him, neither did my mom. She never knew what happened, I was loyal ...he taught me that. I have a feeling that had she known I might have been writing about being a "mama's girl".

My dad died , he was only 41 years old, wife number 6 and the rest of the the vultures came, and I disappeared, I didn't go to his funeral because, me and my dad were sitting on the side of a mountain...together one last time, I'll admit I cried, but I wasn't afraid of him no more.

Learn more about this author, Mia Dawson.
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