Q.B. Tyler

Soft. Smooth. Rich.

I imagined it was what my father would sound like, if I had one.

The third, and perhaps the most pertinent time, he spoke to me. He told me he liked my pink overalls that I begged my mother not to make me wear. He gave me a grin, baring all his teeth and I almost melted. My heart slammed against my little ribcage and I couldn’t help but feel like I was floating.

The beautiful man noticed me.

Maybe he’d love me one day.

Maybe he’d kiss me like they do at the end of the movies.

But I was wrong.

So, fucking wrong.

Because although I saw him first and told myself at the young age of ten that I was madly in love with this beautiful man, said beautiful man fell in love with someone else.

My mother.

I was ten years old when I fell in love.

Two years later, I fell in hate.

Things are different now, a voice speaks from somewhere within.