Girl To Ghost

Maryann Lenner sat on the old, worn out throw rug that covered the ratty wooden floors in front of the couch. Her favorite doll posing in her small, delicate hands. Maryann tucked the doll she name Erin under her arm as her father entered the room. "Good morning, Papa," Maryann muttered. She stood there, wiring her tiny fingers nervously together. Her Papa nodded in her direction, barely acknowledging her, but an acknowledgment none the less. Papa scuffed his way to the refrigerator, yanking open the door and pulling out a ice cold beer.

"But, Papa, it's only nine o'clock," Maryann whispered, causing her father to stride across the room and strike his only little girl across her young, porcelain face, leaving a five fingered hand print upon her pale skin.

Maryann always lived in fear of her Papa after her Mama disappeared. She often wondered if Papa would ever stay sober long enough to spend a bit of happy time with his almost eight year old daughter. Or if all of his time be spent along the line of extremely drunk and passed out, barely on the bed, dirty, and ranking of alcohol. Maryann wondered if he would remember her birthday tomorrow. In a way, she hoped he wouldn't, because any form of celebration meant even heavier drinking, and even heavier beatings.