Melody was only 9 years old when her parents divorced. It was mere weeks following the death of her favorite aunt. She remembered those days with a twinge of sadness. It was just a fog in the back of her mind. Her own father never even bothered to show up to her custody hearings.
Melody was staying with family on the other side of the country far away from her past life. Her new family were much better for her anyways. They had far more money than her parents plus they treated her like a guest in their house, not like a burden they both fought over which of them was to blame for bringing her into the world.
There were times she missed living with both of her parents. Today was not one of those days. She had woken up from a dream of the last time she saw her father. He was drunk as usual. This time he was ragging on his now ex-wife as to why she was trying to force him to care about his child. Melody remembered sitting there on the couch looking down at the floor clutching her doll thinking to herself “why don’t they love me?”
There hadn’t been a whole lot going on in her father’s life. He had no reason not to want custody over her. It was brutal. The fight wasn’t over who got to raise her it was over who was going to be stuck with her. In the end she went to live with family in Vermont. At least there she was able to live something of a normal life.
Melody spent most of her days focused on school. She had no interest in following in either of her parents footsteps. She was going to go to college and carve out her own path in life. She just needed to bide her time. It had been seven years since she last saw her father. Which made it all the more surreal when a letter arrived addressed to her. It was scribbled in pencil in the sloppiest handwriting she had ever seen. She poured over every letter crying her eyes out as she read each syllable.
Her mother had been killed. Her father was missing. He was the prime suspect in the case. Melody was sitting on her bed sobbing. She never had a normal life. She never loved her parents. But now, knowing they were gone for good out of her life forever, she felt remorse she never got to spend more time with them.
Melody walked over to the waste basket by her desk, touched the corner of the letter to a lit candle and tossed it into the trash can. She watched it burn. The last remnants of her past life. It was time to move on she figured. Her old life was over.
“Melody come down for breakfast would you child,” her aunt called from downstairs.
She wiped her tears.
“I hope you burn in hell!” she whispered to her dad’s letter.