And I hate myself. Hate myself for being so weak and not being able to control these fucking feelings.She's coming down the stairs and walking around ...he sofa, "I got worried when you didn't come up and- Sam?" My eyes feel hot and messy, and I can feel them prickle, and when I say her name it comes out all mangled and broken.She's hugging me, rocking back and forth with me and she's terrified. Because I'm supposed to be strong. I'm supposed to be the strong one. And I've only ever cried in. “Sure angle”, I told her and had her sit on the floor between the coffee table and the couch. I picked up the hairbrush and asked her how school was and as I brushed her hair I told her how pretty it was and how I loved to brush it. Then after a few minutes of this I asked her to lie down on the couch so I could put some lotion on her legs. I reached toward the coffee table to get the lotion. It was only when I turned back around that I noticed that my baby girl wasn't wearing any underwear!I. More

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