Author's Note: Hey, here's the next drabble for you all, this one being a little more angsty. I hope you like it anyway.

Martina Crowe sits at a desk, a pencil in her hand as she struggles to think of the right words to put on the paper.

Dear Mom and Dad...

Crap, that sounds so lame, Martina thinks, but she doesn't erase it.

In case you have forgotten who I am, I'm your daughter, Martina. You know, the one you threw away. If you're wondering why I am writing to you, let me just make one thing clear: I'm not begging you to take me back.

As she writes this, she feels as though her insides are burning, getting rid of all the anger that was deep inside of her all this time.

The reason I am writing to you is to tell you what I wanted to say the whole time: I HATE YOU. BOTH OF YOU.

She underlines the latter sentence, the thirteen year old girl still getting rid of her anger.

Dad, you were always angry and drunk, always saying that I was a mistake, that God never should have created me. I also remember that you hit me every once in a while, I still have one of the bruises that you gave me that I could very easily show to the police and have you arrested for it.

She smirks at the little bit of blackmail, but she knows she never will tell the cops about the bruise on her hip that she knows will never go away.

I can see you right now, laying on that cheap sofa, watching TV with a can of beer in your hand, putting out a cigarette and ordering Mom to make you a sandwich.
Which reminds me, mother, you never argued about him being lazy, never complained about having to do everything for him like you were his maid and never argued with him whenever he began to insult me.

Right there, tears begin to well up in Martina's eyes.

In fact, that is the reason that I hate you, maybe even more than Dad. You were never there for me, you have never stood up for me and the few times you were with me, you looked at me with hatred. Yes, hatred.
I know what you were doing when you said you were "off to get groceries." You were seducing other men, probably looking for a chance to abandon me and Dad and begin another life.

The lead of the pencil snaps at that moment and she hastily resharpens it before continuing her letter.

You wanna know how I knew for sure you hated me? Well, let's go back to December 14, 2003, shall we? There I am, just trying to do my homework, while you're in the kitchen trying to make something for all of us to eat that wouldn't make us throw up (by the way, you always sucked at cooking, you never removed the plastic wrap) when Dad comes home, drunk as usual and majorly ticked off. He began his usual rant about how stupid I was, how ugly I looked, that you should have gotten an abortion when you still had the chance, but then it suddenly gets worse.

Unseen by Martina, Mr. Curtain enters her room, watching her as she continues to write furiously.

Dad was trying to throw me out of the house, in both metaphorical and literal senses of the word, but I managed to escape him and I ran to you, I begged you not to let him throw me away like that, to keep me safe from the cold, cruel world outside. And what did you do? With a look of absolute hatred and disgust, YOU FREAKING BETRAYED ME! YOU LET HIM THROW ME OUT, THROW BEER BOTTLES AT ME, AND I THINK YOU EVEN HELPED HIM WITH THAT LAST ONE! I HATE YOU MOTHER AND I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THAT!

Martina stands up and throws the pencil sharpener against the wall, pulls her hair, kicks the desk, screams and then throws herself on the bed, where she continues to cry.

Mr. Curtain approaches the desk as she continues to cry and reads what she wrote. Scowling slightly, he sits down and decides to write a letter of his own.

To Mr. and Mrs. Crowe,
First of all, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ledroptha Curtain and I own the school just out of Stonetown. I found your daughter last year in a state of total distress and couldn't find it within me to make her forget what happened since she didn't trust me and wouldn't tell me what was wrong. As you might have guessed, I have found out what happened and who was responsible. I am quite used to getting orphans and children who have run away from their parents for whatever reason and teaching them but Martina is the first person to have actually been forced out of her own home by her parents. Now, I'm not writing this letter to lecture you, that would be a complete waste of paper since you would probably forget it if Martina is correct in assuming that you, Mr. Crowe, are still drinking and if you, Mrs. Crowe, are still committing adultery. No, I send this letter to you to give you a warning: If you have any desire to have your daughter back, and if it is merely for your own selfish purposes, stay away from the school. Should you come anywhere near the school with less than good intentions, you will regret it.

Ledroptha Curtain

Mr. Curtain puts both his and Martina's letters inside of an envelope, seals it shut, puts it in his pocket and then moves the chair to sit next to the still weeping girl.

"Hush, child," he says gently, running a hand through her black hair. Normally, she would flinch and tell him to "get the hell out of the room," but today, she doesn't seem to care.

They were just two lost souls, waiting for the day that an improvement would come and fix everything.

Author's Note: Yeah, sorry if they were out of character, I was more or less winging it by the end of this. =P