The Plea of My child

Then my dad started changing and spending less time with me. I thought it was me that caused the trouble between my mom and my dad and that maybe I was being naughty that’s why my dad didn’t spend time with me. Then I started hating my mom because she always screamed at my dad. Then my dad started coming in late and when I woke up the next day, he would be gone or asleep again. Everything changed and there was more arguments and at night, I would hear my mom cry. One night I went into her room and asked her why she was crying and she said that it was nothing. I shouldn’t worry. Once I caught her crying in the kitchen and she said there was something in her eye, or it was the onions. Our house became like a cemetery and I didn’t know to cope with this situation. My school work dropped and I failed my exams. My teacher asked if there was something wrong and I told her no.

At home things became worse. My dad lost weight and started sleeping out more often. There were times that we didn’t have food in the house and my mom would say that I shouldn’t worry, things will become better. At times I hear her pray that the Almighty must protect my dad and make him see what he was doing to our family. Then she would start crying all over again. I couldn’t take it anymore and I started praying that my dad that my dad would be like he used to be and would come back home to stay.

At this stage, the whole neighbourhood knew that my dad was an addict. Some of the children used to make fun of my dad, calling him an addict. I hated the children and I didn’t want to have any friends. I hated everyone except my dad. I know that it sound strange, but I didn’t want to hear anything bad about my dad. I loved him too much.

Then came the time when my mom threw him out of the house, and I felt so sorry for him. I wanted to go with him but he told me I couldn’t. I cried every night and asked God to bring back my daddy, but He never did. I waited every night and every time there was a knock on the door, I would run to open it, hoping that it would be my daddy. But every time, I would be disappointed. My mom’s health became bad and she went to the doctor who put her on medication. I started hating my mom because if it wasn’t for her, then my dad would have been with us. I refused to speak to her and kept to myself for most of the time. She tried talking to me, but I was too stubborn. I was my daddy’s child.

Now I hate my dad for leaving us and having these terrible friends and that he is staying at. He never phones or visits us. He seems to have forgotten me. I HATE HIM, I HATE HIM. WHY? WHY? DEAR GOD WHY MY DAD? I LOVE HIM, I MISS HIM. I WANT MY DADDY BACK. SAVE MY DADDY, DON’T LET HIM GO TO JAIL, & DON’T LET HIM DIE. DADDY……… MOMMY AND I MISS YOU. ……… PLEASE COME HOME.

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