--Original Version--

Part 1: Letter

The back of his hand hit my cheek again, once again knocking me to the ground I just rose from.

Yet another bruise to try and erase tomorrow before school.

Three Months I keep telling myself, three more months ‘til I’m gone. In three months is my eighteenth birthday, the day I plan on leaving here.

I have lived through this hell for fourteen years. For fourteen years I have lived without my mother and for eight, I have lived without my little brother.

His body couldn’t handle the pain of daily abuse, ‘Daddy’ killed him the day after his eighth birthday.

A year later, I almost followed him.

I pulled out one of ‘daddy’s guns. He did not know I learned to shoot one or did he rely that I would hide in the dark shadows, watching him learning as well as I could by sight how to load and clean them. But I learned the hard way, it’s not as easy as it looks.

That day, the day I thought I was to put that little gun to my head, a 9mm ‘daddy’ never used for one reason or another.

I kept it, he did not even notice for the 2 years I did not return it to it’s place or me heading out to the little forest behind my house.

Learning to shoot, learning what a back fire felt like. Learning why the hell you don’t shoot like gangsters to the side, you fucking miss your target!!

That day, I was looking for my mom’s favorite jade necklace in her old jewelry box, the one I barely remember seeing her in before she died.

That day instead of my mother’s favorite keep sake, I found something else.

A letter.

A letter addressed to me from my real father. The guy down stairs, the guy letting me bandage the wounds he gave me was not my father.


--Rewrite--

Part 1: Three More. ( First person point of view. )

The back of his hand hit my cheek, again. Once again, knocking me to the ground I just raised myself off of.

It was just another bruise to try and erase before school tomorrow.

Three months, I kept telling myself; three more months until I could leave. In three months was my eighteenth birthday.

I had lived through this hell for fourteen years. For fourteen years, I had lived without my mother. And for eight, I had lived without my little brother.

My brother’s body couldn’t handle the pain of daily abuse. ‘Daddy’ killed him the day after his eighth birthday.

A year later, I almost tried following him.

I’m Higurashi Kagome, this is my hell.

Part 2: Letter ( Third person point of view. )

A year after Kagome’s younger brother, Sota was killed by her ‘daddy’, she planned on putting one of her ‘daddy’s guns to her head.

She learned how to shot well enough by watching him. Just enough, so she would really kill herself, not just end up in the hospital.

That day, the day she decided would be her last, Kagome went to find her mother’s necklace. Kagome barely remembered her mother, who died when she was only four years old. But in the couple pictures she had seen of her mom, she always wear a necklace that she knew was in her mom’s old jewelry box.

One day, while ‘daddy’ was out, Kagome found the old box. At the bottom of the box was the necklace from the pictures.

But an envelope with her name written is sloppy hand writing caught her eye.

When she read it, she didn’t know how to react. It was a letter from her real father or so the letter said.

Part 3: Not Daddy. ( First person )

I was in shock when I found that letter.

The man who would send me to bed very night with bruises wasn’t my father.

I had another father, a real one somewhere that loved me just for being me.

I memorized that letter the first night.

My dear daughter,

I asked your mother to give this to you on your eighteenth birthday. Hopefully, she doesn’t decide she’s still mad at me by than.

My dear Kagome, I can’t say sorry enough for not being there to see you grow up. I can’t explain now, but maybe someday. That is, if you don’t hate me for not being around.

I’ll always love you, my dear. Never forget that. And maybe one day I can try making up for not being there.

Forgive me,
You’re father.