You were 16 and suffered from osteogenesis imperfecta, your dad, Phillip, treated you like a delicate flower. He wanted you to be safe, careful, alive. But it was so annoying.

Phillip carried you around a lot but refused to let you do something by yourself. He refused to see you as the teenager you were. You avidly went to physical therapy to try and walk by yourself but you still had your crutches as always.

Standing by yourself, staring down at your feet, holding onto your crutches, shifting yourself carefully when Phillip came up to you and picked you up gently instantly angering you "there you go baby, I got ya."