Sunday, December 27, 2009
ch.6 david
Father helped me with the evening dishes when he was home. He would dry them and I would wash them. Father and I would always talk softly so mother or the other boys wouldn’t hear us. He would always ask me if I had anything to eat and I would shake my head in a negative gesture. Father would tell me that one day him and I would get out of this madhouse as he would call it. I felt that it was my fault because father didn’t like it here.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment