I'd wished that my dad would go away. That's how I sort of phrased it in my head when he was hitting me, 'I wish he would go away,' I don't think I was asking God or anyone, really. It was just a wish. Then I left his house and moved in with Joey. I went away, not him.

But how long do wishes last? Was that wish still out there for anyone to grant? Because when Joey told me my dad died the first thing I thought about was that wish. I wished he'd go away and he had. He'd gone away forever.

So it could be my fault, just like everything else. All of our fights, all of the beatings, all of the times I made him angry, that was my fault. Now this. Car accident. Suicide. Whatever it was. I'd caused it. I wished it. Now my wish had come true.

So both my parents were dead. It was somehow worse when they were both dead. My dad's death made me a true orphan. An orphan! That's like something out of a Dicken's novel, not someone in the 21st century. But of course I had Joey and Angela, and they were my family. I wasn't like in an orphanage eating gruel or anything.

I didn't really know how to feel. I hadn't even been seeing my dad all that much. I'd wanted him gone. We'd just had a fight and that fight proved to me, without a doubt, that things wouldn't change. When I left in the beginning of this year, when I went to stay with Joey, I thought maybe he could change. He'd had a problem with anger and his temper and being violent but maybe he could fix that problem. I'd told him I was going to stay with Joey while we sorted it out.

After the fight at the restaurant I knew we couldn't sort it out. Old patterns reemerge. I'd believed in him again and he let me down. I went back to Joey's house with a bleeding cut under my eye and the conviction that I never wanted to see my dad again. I hated him and I never wanted to see him again and now he's dead. How was I supposed to feel?

I just wanted to pretend that nothing was wrong. That's how I dealt with things. And then Joey keeps looking at me like I'm not fine, and people at school keep asking how I am. How am I? I was trying to be okay, to go to the dance, to get on with my life. But I was starting to lose it. How am I? It's all that was coming out of anyone's mouth, and I know they're worried but they didn't need to. I'd wished him away. I'd hated him. He wasn't going to beat me anymore. I was fine.

So that's what I told myself. I didn't care. I wanted to go to the dance. I didn't want to think about him. I didn't want to go and get the stuff out of his house before the action sale. Going into the house was hard. I tried to keep it off my face but it was coming back. Being hit. Being hugged. Dad telling me to have a good day at school, making supper, helping me with science homework. Hitting me with his belt. Yelling at me, scaring me.

"You okay?" Joey said, and his face gets kind of crumpled up in concern. I felt like I might start crying and I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to be in this house. I didn't want Joey to be looking at me with that look.

"I'm going upstairs," I said.

The funeral. This was another event I would rather have skipped. Sitting there, listening to the lies about my dad being such a dedicated father. Yeah. Right. And I lost it. I just lost it. Joey drags me out of the church, out into the cold air and I can see my breath in front of my face.

Joey tries to tell me about the complicated relationship I had with dad. I knew. I knew it was all screwed up. And I knew I'd wished him away. It was hard to even feel just sorry that he was gone, since that was how I wanted it.

"Yeah, it was complicated. He beat me. Well, he isn't going to do that again, is he?" I said, yelling, my cheeks red from the cold, and Joey was just staring at me, at a loss.