Before you start reading take a moment to read this!

I love you guys. When I read the reviews that where posted I almost cried you all are so sweet! I'm so lucky to have all these wonderful people reading my story. I never ever thought that this story would be enjoyed by so many people. So all can say is thank you. Btw to the guest who wrote the jingle at the end of their review, I love you that was funny and your a sweet person. And I'm glad you like Olivia.

To Aubreylovesthegames and LeighSix when I saw you both reviewed I nearly fainted! I love love love you guy's stories they're so fucking good! I can't believe writers such as you both were reading my story and like it. Like I can't even, it's too much.

Thank you all my lovey readers!

Enjoy~

BTW this chapter has to do with Olivia's biological father

Olivia POV

"No stop nothing like that happened" I bury my face in my hands as my mom continues to ask me questions.

"So didn't sleep with Matthew" she ask giving me that 'if the answer is yes I'm going kill you' look. It's very frightening.

"No mama we didn't! We didn't even kiss" I whine want to end this slightly embarrassing conversation.

"Okay, okay I believe you" my mom through a her hands up in mock surrender. I mutter thank you under my breath as I finish cutting the squash for the chicken soup my mom demanded I help her make. Her reasoning, and I quote 'you nor your brother are gonna leave this house without knowing how to cook'.

I finish the squash and pour it into the pot. I look over at my mom who is staring at me.

"What" I ask her putting the cutting board down.

"You look more and more like your father each day" she sighs look back down at the counter.

"Who is my dad?" I blurt before I can stop myself. My mom sighs and stops stirring the pot and leans on the counter.

"You wanna know" she ask getting serious. I nod my head.

"Well you father's name is Jonathan Fitz and I met him at a bar around nine months after Tobias was born. This was when me and Marcus' marriage started falling apart and I was upset and depressed. Well my friend told me I need to get out of the house, she said that she would take care of Tobias while I went out. So went to this bar 'cause I was dying for a gin and tonic. I got my drink and I saw Jonathan and we talked and danced and some other stuff. Later that night when I snuck back home I felt terrible and guilty, slept on the couch that night" she says looking relieved. Like she was getting something off her chest, and she kinda was.

I stand there flabbergasted, "where is he now"

"Cemetery" she says simply.

"Why does he live in the-oh he's dead isn't he" I frown. I'll never meet him now.

"I'm sorry, I know you'll never meet him but I'm sure he would love you" my mom puts her hands on my shoulders and smiles at me. I pull her into a hug burying my face in her lavender scented hair.

"Where is he buried mama" I ask still hugging her.

"Sweet Olive on Mayberry Rd" she replies. I pull away and walk towards the door. I wave to my mom and she smiles and nods her head to the door encouraging me to do what I'm about to do.

(A/N: Sweet Olive cemetery is a real historical cemetery. But it's not in Chicago)

The wind blows on my face as I walk outside. I feel it messing up my hair, oh well.

I decide to walk because one, I didn't bring my car keys. Two, Sweet Olive is only two blocks away.

While walking I start to think. What hell am I even doing? What do I say or do? Do I say anything. What would I say, 'Oh hey well I'm your daughter you never knew about, yeah when you slept with that woman named Evelyn she got pregnant and that's how I came into existence so yeah. How are you, how's being dead'. I don't think so.

It's not like he's gonna say anything back, but if he does I will be getting the fuck out of there, just saying, I don't play no demonic shit, I watch enough scary movies with stupid people in them to know when a ghost comes you get the hell out of there. I also advise others do the same, when you see a ghost don't be like dumb bitch in the movies and walk towards the ghost, you run. And for the love of god don't trip over nothing, I swear to god that's the stupidest shit ever. If you die because you didn't follow my advice you deserved it.

A crying baby brings me back from my internal rant. I look ahead to see a man holding a baby girl to his chest, cooing in her ear trying to calm her down. Looking at them makes me feel a little jealous because I never ever had a fatherly figure to hold me, kiss me, make me feel loved, tuck me in at night, and all that daddy-daughter stuff. You know what I had, I had to tuck myself in at night, I had to love myself because who else was going to do it, I had to put cream on my own bruises and cuts, I had to wipe away my own damn tears. While other kids got grounded or no TV, I chained to bed, raped, beaten, and starved. I would peek out my window at other kids and wish I could be like them, they had loving parents, they weren't beaten, they didn't have to watch their mom take hits for them and have to pray that Marcus would leave then alone that night.

The only 'father' I had was Marcus and what was he? He wasn't a father he was shit and I still hate him. He hated me and I hated him back, we had an understanding. I'm sure he wished I never existed because I wasn't even his kid, and the fact that my mom found the comfort he couldn't give in another man hurt his pride and ego that are both bigger than his dick will ever be.

The babies cries die down as I make a left turn onto Mayberry and I can see the entrance coming into view.

The gate creeks when I push it open and close it. I look at the sea of graves before me, where do I start? Are they in alphabetical order or random? I guess I'll just start here.
H
After a while of searching, I start to get frustrated. Where the hell is he. Just when I am about to give up I trip over something and fall face first into the grass, good job Olivia, real graceful. I groan and sit up while spitting a piece of grass out of my mouth. I stand back up and look down at what I tripped over.

Jonathan Fitz

1969-2000

Loving son of Margret and Martin Fitz and loving brother of Aaron Fitz

There he is, my dad, the man who held the sperm that made me in his man parts until he met my mom. He's here under my feet, lying in a casket, rotting in a fancy suit, covered with six feet of dirt.

He has been here since I was three and I never knew. I pass by here everyday on my way to and from school and I never knew my dead father was here. How did he die? Was he killed? Was he a closet druggie? Maybe a car crash? Suicide? Accidental Suicide?

All these questions fly around in my head before I let to words tumble out of my mouth that I never got to tell anyone before, "Hey Dad"