37
Flynn
Pa had been a jealous bastard. He’d gotten a woman who loved him, gave him the proper attention and affection he’d craved. He and Ma had spent a few years together, semi-happy except for the “dark times” as Ma called them, came over him.
He would frequently speak in his sleep, and when he did, he brooded for days afterwards, she’d written.
Eventually, he told her about his past. About his abusive father, his inattentive mother. She had hoped he would heal inside, had even written he’d become more tender. Vulnerable and open.
But she hadn’t carried their first two babies to the end—and the fact Pa’s fists came at her when she’d needed comfort most, damn near made me want to rip my hair out.
Then I’d been born. The love of Ma’s life, her sunshine, and Pa took my presence as hi
