The house was colder when Abby and I went back inside. The confrontation with my father had drained the last bit of energy I had left— even my appetite, leaving me feeling raw and exposed. The weight of his words clung deep to me, that all I could do was silently weep.
The way he could easily throw those words like I was nothing to him spoke so much about how saw me— obviously, not as a daughter.
Abby accompanied me. She didn’t say anything at first, and just simply walked beside me, like she was trying to communicate that I wasn’t alone. We reached the living room, and I feebly sank onto the couch, exhausted.
Abby sat beside me, hesitating for a second before reaching out to take my hand in hers. There was warmth in it, and I wished I could take the time to pause all these emotions t
