I am 15 and my father abused me. I spent every day in fear of him. For no reason I would be hit and go flying over tables and into walls. After a while I wouldn’t even come out of my room after my father got home. In his eyes I was nothing, I can never do anything right. He died a few years ago and everyone told me how good a man he was, and how happy I should be that I had had him. In my mind I was then, and still am, asking; did he ever really love me?