I was born in February 17, 2000 in a private hospital in Mexico , DF. My dad wasn’t there for my birth. He was somewhere better, I guess. He didn’t really ever love me? , or at least that’s how I felt. He wasn’t there for me when I was a little girl. He would scream at me once I did something wrong till the point that he hit me. He hit me and my mother. I saw him as he abused my mother. The way he would get his belt and slam it against her skin and throw his fist up ready to punch her. It was horrible I was like four years old and I saw that. He would hit me too and I was very little he’d remind me how stupid I am. I cryed so much with my mom. We wanted to leave but, why we didn't was because, we loved him.
We loved a monster. That was our problem for many years we had suffered by someone we loved.
Around when I was turning five my grandma got us tickets to go to American. We were sad but, happy. It was something good for me I thought I had a better life. No more hitting, viewing my mother suffer. I thought it was all good. I mean I was very young. I was happy very happy. I planned it all out, for a better life. Once we got there we saw condos to live in. We saw this really nice one for me and my family. I felt safe for the first time. I just didn’t know any english so I was scared to go a new school and get bullied again. Unfortunately, they did but, thats a diffrent story. Anyways yeah, I started like living in America it was nice. They malls, park, rights all of that. I did miss my dad but, I had my mind off things with my new life. It all came a distraction. I knew english once I went to first grade. That’s when everything started.
Once I started first grade I got bullied for my accent. I started making friends though because, I finally could have a conversation with people. I remember in open house every one came with there mom and dad that’s when everything started. I saw how happy they were with there dad. How every boy would play a sport with them. My friends would all be daddy’s girl. I sat down to cry for a minute or two. I missed him so much but, I knew he did wrong. As I grew up I started to realize so much. how he hurt me, how he hated me, how worthless I am. Many people would ask me where my dad was I'd look at them for a second and just break down. It was too much too take in. I felt so alone for some reason. Once I entered Second grade I hated people. I hated life that’s when my first suicide attempt came in was done. All that followed me till fifth grade.
On January 6, 2011 I called him I was so afraid but, I missed him so much. I called him I found it in my mom notebook his number. I said “ Daddy, Is that you? “ he said “ who is this? “. I broke down and told him I am his daughter do you remember me I miss you daddy”. “ He said me too. “ He said ; “ I will come and see you soon I promise wait for me on January 10, 2011m I'm coming I got everything fixed I'll drive from Las Vegas to see you.” I cried of