The dishes clattered in the sink loudly with an earsplitting clashing noise. The mentally ill mother screamed at her daughter for making eggs that morning. The same mother who wouldn’t leave the boyfriend she had dated for the past ten years…the very one who had touched upon both her daughters. I couldn’t imagine what life would be like in your shoes. My whole life, all I ever wanted was to help you. Not until I was 19, and I had my first psychotic break from reality. And I felt this immense amount of guilt, for not telling anybody. The police came to our school, and still you did nothing. Not that I blame you, of course not, you’re the victim. But I wish you would’ve said something. I won’t claim to understand the fear in you, the idea of foster care must have seemed overwhelming. But watching what went on in your house was worse than the idea of trying. I wish things were different. I wish you would’ve let me say sorry. After my blackout, I’m sure you hated me, for saying things I didn’t remember, I’m excusing nothing. I hope you know and remember who I am. Like I remember who you were. I wish you all the best in life, and I hope you get your head in the game, and navigate through it. Don’t give up.