A little girl sat down on her bed, crying. She took the stuffed animal that was sitting on her bed and held it. The salty tears falling and drying on the matted head of the stuffed dog. Her mother had given it to her. Her mother, well she hadn't seen her in a long time. The last time she did was when she was 3 and she was seven now. Her memory was hazy, she remembered it was around Christmas time and the woman telling her about an older brother. Only thinking about that made her cry harder. Her father yet again was drunk and she was scared. She had gone through it many times before, she just had to lock the door and hide into the closet.

When we see the little girl again she is 9. To old to hide in the closet, even thought she still did lock the door. Hugging the stuffed dog she cried, they were not the innocent wails of a small child that they should be, but the quite weeping of someone much older. She had forgiven her father long before and now she never talked to him. Getting home straight from school she ate before her father came home, drunk, and then went upstairs to lock herself in her room, not coming out until 6:00 the next day.

The girl is not little anymore, she is on the strange time, when she is 10. Turning on the radio she listened to the music. Music, it was her outlet. In school she was in the chorus even though she would never be able to perform, her dad would never go, and who would take her? She had no friends, she was a loner. Softly singing along, she imagined herself far way from her life.

An 11 year old girl, sitting by herself at recess, wishing or dreaming, to be some where else. She wished to see her mother and the mysterious brother that was mentioned when she was 3. That was one of the two things she remembered. Getting her stuffed dog was the other. She loved it, even though the few times her father saw it and said she was too old for a stuffed animal and it was dirty and ragged she still loved it.

At 12 years of age, she is no longer the little girl with no mother. Now she is the young lady with no family. Her father, he wasn't even that, all he was, was a man that sat at home all the time and drank. Only acknowledging her when her when he needed more beer. She became more and more studious willing herself to do well. Throwing herself into music also helped, she let her heat pour out when she sang. She even wrote one or two songs.

Now the 13 year-old girl was without a family. Her father had suffered at cardiac arrest and her mother was being tracked down. Her mother was going to becoming in an hour, half an hour, fifteen minutes, and then five. Five minutes later a medium sized woman walked in with a tall skinny guy with a ton of tattoos. The woman saw her and rushed over. The woman enveloped her in a large hug, the teenage girl to confused to say anything. The woman just kept repeating, "Dawn, my baby Dawn."

~ This was written in like 15 minutes. Spur of the moment even though I think it is good. The song is Forgiven, Not Forgotten by the The Corrs ~