My mother had done her best to shield me from everything. Well, as much as you can shield a child growing up in the slums. She'd read me stories, making sure that each character had their own voice and personality. When we couldn't afford to pay our electric bill, we would camp out in the living room and make shadow puppets with flashlights. She'd make sure to remind me that Dad loved us and counted down the days on the calendar until we could be a family again.
Finally, the big day came and went. Only that bastard never showed.
