Greetings,

Thank you for taking the time to peruse this chapter. I would like to introduce myself as Sarah, a 28-year-old architect. I am pleased to have the opportunity to share my story with you.

Please address me as Sarah henceforth as I delve into my background and experiences.

During my childhood, I was fortunate enough to have a loving family. My mother was a devoted housewife who spent her days making sure that my siblings and I were well-fed and cared for. My father, on the other hand, worked hard to provide for us by taking up a job as a grocery store bagger after he was let go from his previous corporate role.

I grew up with two siblings - my younger brother Stephen, who was 8 years old at the time, and my sister Lia, who was 9. Despite the challenges we faced, my parents did their best to ensure that we had a happy and comfortable upbringing.

My mother was always kind and gentle, with a heart of gold. She was our rock and always put our needs before her own. My father, although often quiet and reserved, was a loving and supportive father who did his best to provide for our family.

Looking back, I am grateful for the love and care my family provided me with during my childhood years. 

I feel compelled to mention that following my father's abrupt dismissal from his job, he began resorting to alcohol consumption in an attempt to cope with the situation. His drinking habits escalated, and he would often become inebriated to the point of incoherence. My parents' relationship became increasingly strained, and they would frequently argue. However, whenever my siblings and I were around, they would attempt to conceal their conflicts and maintain a façade of normalcy. As children, we could sense the tension and knew that something was amiss in our household. Despite the struggles and conflicts that my family faced, my father made an unwavering commitment to ensure our well-being. He promised us that he would work tirelessly to provide us with anything we desired, and he stayed true to his word. Over time, he managed to improve his situation by applying for more jobs, and he was eventually accepted for another corporate job. Although the job was located far away from our house, he made it a priority to be present in our lives. He always made sure to come home early to check up on us, demonstrating his unwavering love and dedication to his family. On a typical Friday evening, after a long day at school, my siblings and I would gather on the couch to play games on our console. The sounds of our excited chatter and button-clicking filled the air as we competed against each other. But one Friday, something was different. My father came home later than usual, and we could feel the tension in the air. Despite his tardiness, he still made his way over to us and greeted us warmly, kissing us on our foreheads. My mother, ever the caring one, asked if he was okay and if he wanted to eat. He assured her that he was fine and that he had already eaten. Nonetheless, we could sense that something was off about his behavior.

It was unusual for him to stay up late, as he was a man who valued his sleep and always made sure to get to bed on time. But on this particular night, he lingered in the living room long after everyone else had retired to their bedrooms. My mother couldn't help but feel suspicious - was he up to something? She kept her thoughts to herself, not wanting to raise any speculation in front of us kids. As the morning sun filtered through the curtains, we were gently roused from our sleep. As we rubbed the sleep from our eyes and made our way to the kitchen, the aroma of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee greeted us. To our surprise, we found our dear uncle "Sylvester" bustling about the kitchen, expertly whipping up a delicious breakfast feast.

"Uncle Sylvester, why are you here?" I asked him.

With a warm smile, he replied, "Sarah, my dear, your mom and dad are just dropping off the clothes for church."

I furrowed my eyebrows, "Isn't the church on Sunday?"

"Your mom told me that you guys won't be able to go on Sunday, so they'll drop it off today," he explained.

"Okay," I said, feeling a bit relieved that my parents were safe and sound.

I still remember that day till now that I am 28 years old. After 14 years since that incident 5 months ago, my mother finally brought it up again. And their she and and my father finally told us the truth. That Friday night after my father was going home from work he was intercepted by a group of men... And there he was assaulted by 7 men. That night he waited for all of us to sleep before he tried to take his life. Fortunately, my mother woke up and found him unconscious in the bathroom. My father tried to overdose himself out of shame. My father cried as he told us three the truth... But at that time my father was already dying from cancer... The only reason he told us was because he no longer had any time left. 2 weeks ago on his deathbed, my father kept apologizing to us three that he was a useless father. But we made sure to let him feel that he never did anything wrong. He provided for us when he was at his lowest and took great care of us very well supporting our dreams. And until now me and my siblings regret that all we could say was... "It's okay Dad!"

"No matter how low our parents are in their life they will always take care of us. No matter how hard it is they will protect and provide for us. Dad we love you... And we miss you dearly."