The glimmering from his cigarette lighted his handsome face in a cherry, red glow. Unmoving, he stares at me. As my eyes become accustomed to the ligh..., his face becomes clear, his ice-cold blue eyes are bloodshot, the aroma of his beer and smoke assaults my nostrils. I can’t understand why he is in my room.As if to clear up my confusion, daddy asked me a question.“How old are you,” he asked, his voice in a hushed whisper.“Eighteen,” I said.“Yeah, when’d ‘at happen?”“Drake, I mean Daddy,” I. Like that time when he went away for the week to a conference and I asked Mom to look after the kids for 2 days and we just kept on and on doing it. I can't even cook properly. I burn food all the time. If I was a better mother — I wouldn't go to work, I would stay at home to make Franks house a haven from his stressful career and a happy place for his kids to come to after they have been at school. I don't even deserve to be the mother of his children. I enjoy drinking, and alcohol is wrong!. More

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