Helanie:
"Who are you picking?" My father loomed over me, towering above a small six-year-old. Every time he asked me this question, it felt like I was committing a crime just by thinking about choosing.
"I don't want to be without Mommy," I whimpered, clutching my teddy bear tightly.
"Helanie! You're not a child anymore." My father snatched the teddy bear from my hands, trying to force an answer from me.
"Now look at me and tell me, who do you pick?" he demanded, his intense gaze piercing into mine.
"Mommy!" I whispered, barely audible, choosing my mother for what felt like the hundredth time that week. And once again, his hand struck my cheek.
"You'll never be loved like this. If you can't choose your father, you don't deserve to be a daughter. I've given you everything—even this stupid teddy bear. I work day and night for you and your mother, and yet you still choose her?" His voice shook as he yelled, making me curl up tightly, sobbing uncontrollably.
