DADDY, WILL YOU TAKE CARE OF ME?

I grip my phone hard, staring at it, the little text box taunting me. An overwhelming fury wants to sweep over me, and I have to take a few deep breaths and close my eyes to keep it at bay.

When I open my eyes, I feel only a little better, but the taunting never ceases when I look at my messages to Mark.

Right, my messages, not his.

Read, it says, nearly two hours ago. And not a single response back. And that's the last message. My ...