that surrounded her. once, she had read every one of them. though it was more than twenty years ago, she had read through every single page in that room. she had sat on the floor, her back against the shelf, and read through each book. and while she read, he was sitting behind the desk, smiling down on her.
“what are you reading, sweetie?” her father asked.
a tiny, innocent smile formed across her face. “i will,” she returned her attention back to the story, and continued to read.
looking up from her book, she saw her mother stumble through the door way; with a bottle of gin in her hand. the horrid 