Are you kidding? My parents are divorced...what the hell is your excuse?"

"No excuse for the abuse. No excuse for the rape." I can't even bring myself to tell him how long it was, because he doesn't want to hear about it. And honestly, I'd rather not. So I try to keep it short...which makes him mad.

"I don't know what your excuse is, but mine isn't that. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop making up my mind what I'm going to do." I've learned from now to keep silent about his abuse, because my mother has told him I did the same thing and he's called me all kinds of names. He used to beat me and call me stupid names. I'd get into the car after school and I'd cry like a little girl.

"You're not my mom. And you're not making up your mind, you're making up your excuses."

"My excuse is that I have to live with this. With how everyone has turned on me. With how my mom will never have anything to do with me." I sit back in my chair with my head in my hands.

"What's your excuse?" he asks, sarcastically.

"I have a right to an explanation. I have a