He comes in, gwabs a bottle from the fwidge and plops down on the couch, tuwning on the TV. All Daddy watches is the news, and most of the time he sits all quiet-like, except for when he gets all tense and says very bad wurds at the TV. Once he threw his bottle at the TV, and it didn’t like that very much. Nuh uh, no it didn’t.

A long time ago, back when the smell of Mommy was still in the air, I cwept from my room and peeked awound the hallway door into the TV room, and I saw Daddy staring at the TV, and I didn’t think he saw anything, cause his eyes were all wed and scary. I watched him for a couple minutes before the TV got weally, weally loud and scared me. I scweamed, and then Daddy woke up and came after me. I tried to wun back to my room, but Daddy caught me before I got there.

I went to bed that night with a sore bottom and wet pants. I had seen a face on the TV, and it reminded me of someone but I couldn’t wemember who it was. I tossed and turned all night, trying to keep from cwying because I knew that would make Daddy madder, and a madder Daddy is not somethin' you want to see. The next morning, when I woke up, Daddy was standing in my doorway, wearing his wok clothes and he didn’t look happy.

He said, “I’m sorry for doing that to you, but you can’t leave your room, you understand me, boy?”

I-I said, “Yeh- yes, Daddy. I hear you.”

He tuwned and left, closing my door behind him. I sat up, and heard the key in my lock. Daddy was extwa-mad at me. He only locked me up when I did something very, very bad.

I sat on my bed for a very long time, playing with the mountains in my blankets. My fingers were going on a twip across the entire world.

When the sun fell, I heard Daddy come home. He was a little silly, so I lay back down and pretended to be asleep. I heard him slam into my door a couple times to open my door before he remembered that he had locked it.

The key took a couple more minutes, and by the time he got my door open he was saying very bad words. He came in, smelling like metal and his bottle.

“Come here, boy,” he said.

I had my back to him so I hoped he would tink I was asleep and leave me alone.

“BOY!”

I hate being called that. I am not a boy anymore. I know for a fact that I had my six-teen birfday last week. I sat up and faced him. There was red paint all over his face and hands, and I saw some shining on his wok clothes.

“Come here.”

I got up and went to him, trying not to wet my pants again. He turned and left my room, so I followed him. He went into the TV room, and turned it on. I stood at the doorway, fiddling my bare feet and twying not to cwy.

“Look.”

There was that face again. I blinked a couple times before I recognized the drawing of the woman. It had been many, many days since I had seen her. Mommy’s picture took up the whole screen, and I heard a loud voice twalking.

This Jane Doe was found last night, floating in the River. If you know this woman, please contact us at-"

Daddy turned off the TV. He didn’t look happy, but he had stopped breathing so fast and the paint on his face and wok clothes had dried a little. My Daddy left the room, the remote forgotten on the floor. I picked it up and turned the TV on, Mommy’s face appearing again.

“Please, if you have any information on this woman, please call the hotline. Jane Doe was brutally attacked, sustaining fatal lacerations to her face and neck along with bruises all over her body. Time of death was around noon yesterday, but the body was not put into the water until late last night-”

"BOY!"

I shut off the TV and got onto my feet. Daddy wan into the room, a shiny thing in his hand. He walked towads me, big boy steps, until he stood wight in fwont of me.

"Y-yes Daddy?"

He lifted the shiny thing. I smelled the metal smell again, and when I looked at the shiny thing I saw it was dripping with mowr of the wed paint.

"Mommy wants to see you."