I’m trying so hard to tell you. This is what you do, to make a living. To keep a roof over our heads. You talk people out of their problems. But somehow, you overlook your own daughter. My friends have even said it, right in front of you. They talk about how much they hate him for what he did to me, how abusive he was, but you don’t even try to find out what happened. You’ve watched tears roll down my face in the car and not said a word. I know if I need help I should just ask, but I just need you to notice.