SASHA
I walked into the room, shutting the door behind me and locking it from inside. It felt so cold and lonely.
The bed was perfectly made, and everything was kept in their place. I didn't expect less. My father loved perfection.
There was a frame on the bedside table, and I rushed to where it was, picking it up. I was shocked to see it was a frame that held nine little pictures of me. They were cropped, and placed in the frame according to when they were taken.
The very first one, was me as a toddler. and the last one, surprisingly, was a selfie I had taken just a few months ago.
Why had he kept these?
Did he really love me?
If he did, why did he act the opposite all the time? I turned the frame to look at the back, and gasped when I saw the little writing there.
I will always b
