Why’d You Make Me?

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By Vivian Paide

“Why’d you make me hit you?” Daddy said. He looked so sad.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll try to be good.” My ear still hurt, but I knew not to rub my head. Even though I had been bad, he bought me ice cream. I didn’t deserve it, ‘cause I still kept being bad.

“Nobody will ever love you like I do,” Daddy said. I knew it was true, but then Todd appeared. Married at eighteen, safe.

“Why’d you make me hit you?” Todd said.

            
Vivian Paide lives and writes in Hamilton, Ontario.

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