"No, you do not understand Dad. You don't!" She asserts.
"You and mom have no idea what it is like for me. And how is that damn woman by the way?
Is she still thinking that I willingly got down on my knees and put that bastard's dick in my mouth to blow because I'm a useless whore who needed something to suck on? I bet she still does."
She pauses to laugh again. I subconsciously clench my fists, squeezing the letter. "You can never understand." She continues. "It is only someone equally broken that can get how I feel. I am fully drowned in sorrow and regret thinking what I did to make it all go wrong.
How I could have made it different. My ruin is beyond those of the ancient civilizations. Not even God can save me."
I throw away the letter, facepalming myself. My self-hatred boiling over the edge. Voices raising in my head saying it is my fault. Why I'm I so fucked up?
It is not just because I grew up in the Mafia.
No.
