My childhood was perfect. I had a nice home, loving parents, food, and life's easier when you're a child.

On a nice summer day, I remember playing with mum and pa in our backyard. I remember I was running around chasing a purple butterfly. Mum and Pa were sitting on the porch talking. They hadn't realized that I had moved closer to them. I have no idea how I could remember this all, but I do. I guess it was an important memory my brain decided to keep, or how it was a traumatizing week after words. Only to get worse as the years went on.

"Isn't our baby beautiful?" My mum had asked Pa.

"No. She's too fat, you know what I always say."

"But, she's just a child. She isn't that big, there are bigger kids than her at four years old. We eat healthy and exercise-"

"But that's not enough anymore. My baby is going to outshine everyone else, so she needs to be skinnier. I always say ' skinny is pretty ' don't I love?"

There's one thing about my father, he is always serious, and has the best intentions. Even if no one else can see it, he only wants the best for Mum and me.

"Yes dear, you do" Mum had spoken looking off in the distance in discomfort and sadness.

"Pa, Mum, look what I found?" I had asked them. In my hand was a flower, but not just any flower. No, this flower was red, and it had a fuzzy caterpillar on it.

"Sweety, it's so pretty. Now, let me see the caterpillar so I can put him in a safe place. Later we will put the flower in a cup, with water" She had instructed me as she walked away towards the flower bed, to return the caterpillar. To return it to where it belonged.

I had left the flower on the table. I then ran towards my chalk box next to the back door.

They either didn't think I was listening, or they thought I would be too young to remember, but I do. I remember every word between them.

"Honey, I'm hungry. It's been a we-"

"I will have no wife of mine looking ugly. Skinny is pretty, all those other girls, who have meat on their bones are ugly." Pa had spat in Mum's face.

"But honey, I haven't had anything in a week. Nothing to drink or eat. I'm going inside to have something." But as she got up, Pa had got up and smacked her. Leaving a nasty bright red handprint on her cheek.

"I already told you bitch, skinny is pretty, and you still arn't skinny enough! Your still a fat pig. Just like when you were pregnant with Savannah! A fat, good for nothing, inconcideret whore!" Pa had yelled in her face as he shook her roughly.

"O-okay, I'm sorry. You're right I am too ugly. I will never be pretty, I'll always be ugly" Mum had started to sobb.

"No, honey. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever met" Pa reassured Mum as he whiped her tears and hugged her close. "To prove that you have been and always will be the most beautiful woman in my life, I am taking you out tonight. So, go put something fancy on and I will call Martha."

Nodding her head, Mum headed inside.

"Savannah, Mum and I are going out. Martha is coming to play with you" he informed me.

"Okay?" Pa asked Martha as he finished explaining what to feed me, when to go to bed, to give me a bath, and blah, blah, blah.

"Yes Mr. Waters, I understand" Martha, my babysitter had answered my father.

Mum came down the stairs with her blonde hair down in curls, a navy blue dress that hung tightly on her tiny 5'7 figure. Pa had lost his breath when he saw her come down the stairs. I kissed and hugged them good-bye, but if I knew what happened next, I would've begged them to stay and go out some other time.

Martha and I had stayed up later than what I was supposed to, but she kept saying how they wouldn't be back for hours, and we wouldn't get in trouble. She was wrong, for Pa walked in after only being out for two hours, slamming the door as he entered.

"Mr. Waters, you are back early?" A startled Martha asked, scared.

"Yes, now you can go home" Pa bitterly told Martha, scaring her even more.

"Okay, bye sweets, I'll see you another time" she told me, planting a kiss on my forehead.

"Pa, where's Mum?" I asked an angry, but sad looking Pa.

He didn't answer.

"Where's Mum?"

"S-she, she is dead, and it's all that low life's fault."

I had never seen my Pa this sad, but his anger even over did what I have seen off of him. "What do you mean?"

Being so young I hadn't understood what he had said. What it ment, or what he went on next ment.

"She was shot. It only grazed her head, but she was so weak, a-and she didn't make it. And it's all his fault. You will understand more as you grow up. It's way past your bedtime, let's go to bed."

That night he slept in my room on the floor. Days, weeks, months went by. I didn't know what being dead ment. I kept waiting for Mum to walk through the door any day. For I believed she was on a vacation, and I don't know why I thought that. The funeral was only a few days after she was shot, but I still didn't understand. I didn't understand why everyone was telling Pa and me "sorry for your loss," or "she's in a better place. Everything will be alright."

Pa became meaner. Harsher. I didn't understand Mum was gone for good until I was eight.

Within one night, my whole world was turned upside down. My perfect loving family, was now a broken family. My Pa only became meaner, and more demanding.