Hope begins in the dark; in Disavowed;

I’m sinking into the fathomless depths of despair and I’m thinking, there has got to be some kind of way to get the hell out of here, I’m thinking, the world as I knew it vanished away and I’m sat here, pitifully holding onto shattered pieces of hope. Darling, there’s nothing to hold onto, can’t you tell? You’re the boring closure to a useless story no one cares to read so keep quiet as the universe unfolds, keep quiet, always.
I want to say I’m sorry, except I’m not, except it’s complicated and you wouldn’t understand even though you were there, even though you were the one that hurt me. I want to ramble about that one time you held a knife so close to your own throat and threatened me to keep quiet. I was ten and terrified. I was ten and childish and broken from the motherless world I was pushed into. No. I like it here. I want to be here… Most of the time I do. Then there comes the slap and the endless screaming. My dad laughs in the background because our house is starting to feel like home at last, except I’m coughing out cement powder. Father, can’t you tell, this is nothing like home.