Dear Mom,

I am 7 years old. I have dish soap in my mouth. I cursed or talked back. I did something to anger you. I sit alone in my room, the door locked from the outside. My sobs and hiccups produce bubbles. My stomach tenses as I hear your footsteps. Your socks now stifle my cries.

Dear mom, I'm sorry.

Dear Mom,

I am 8 years old. He wants me to call him father. This strange man. He insists I call him father. I want to be with my daddy. I miss my brothers and sister. I miss you. Why did you send me away? Why dont you love daddy?

Dear mom, I want to come home.

Dear mom,

I am 10 years old. It's hard to breathe. Your hands are tightening. My face is red above my yellow sweat shirt. I think this is it. You let go just as the blackness begins to envelope me.

Dear mom, why?

Dear mom,

I am 12 years old. I have dark secrets. You dont notice the blood on my arms. No one knows but me. I am in pain and no one knows. I try to let you in on my secret but you call me "sensitive" and tell me to stop crying.

Dear mom, help me.

Dear mom,

I am 15 years old. I lay in a hospital bed. A bright red bracelet on my wrist reads "suicide risk". The room is dark but I can see your face in the glow of the machines. I can see the anger written on it. You think I'm asleep. Or maybe you dont care if I see you leave. I know I'm not supposed to be left alone. But I say nothing.

Dear mom, please come back.

Dear mom,

I am 20 years old. I'm going to be a mother soon. You've disowned me again. I put my fist through a wall. How could you? I'm so angry. I swear to be a better mother than you ever were.

Dear mom, dont come back.

Dear mom,

I am 23 years old. You hate me again. You wish death on my child. How can one person harbor so much venom? Again, I swear to be better. I already am.

Dear mom, go to hell.

Dear mom,

I am 25 years old. You haven't met my second child and my first doesn't remember you. It's best this way. They are safe from your grasp. I wish I was too. I still wake screaming from dreams of you. My doctor says its PTSD. If only the medicine could wash away my memories.

Dear mom, it's my time to heal.

Edit to add: Thank you ladies for all the love. My lit friend thinks I should publish this. Maybe I will.