The Diary of Hate

I found it the day after we won full custody.

It was November 17, 2016.

And there it was.

In multi-colored ink.

Bound with a shiny pink cover.

Words of hate wrapped in red, green, purple and blue.

Letters in a sequence now proving the intangible existence of our elusive war.

And confirmation of our defeat.

Months before.

Her first entry was dated July 19, 2015.

My voice shook as I read aloud in the kitchen with tears pouring out of my eyes.

The epiphany we’d run out of time long ago without notice.

Crushing.

The realization it happened right before our eyes.

Devastating.

For years, the alienator’s poison had dripped into Mary’s mind and flowed through her veins in an attempt to eradicate every cell imprinted with Jack’s DNA.

And now, evidence that it had successfully reached her heart, flowed through her pen, and crossed the imaginary threshold we’d spent 7 years, 11 months and 9 days fighting with unwavering determination.

The invisible dragon was real.

And had stolen Mary from right in front of us.

Her words were daggers.

It’s too late for him to be a good father.

I hate it at dad’s.

I’m done with dad.

Dad has a personality disorder.

I will kill myself if I have to go back.

I refuse to let my dad ruin my life.

I’m scared of what might happen if I go back.

I’m fearing for both Liam’s and my life.

The avalanche had taken place and swallowed them whole.

And help was finally on the way.

1 year, 3 months and 28 days too late.