This is a work of fiction.
I'm writing this down because I don't know what else to do. My grades have gone down the tubes, my college plans are looking iffy, and I've started cutting myself. I want to tell someone but I'm too scared – it could destroy my family and leave us in a national media circus. I'm hoping that writing this down will help; I'll probably just burn it but at least I'll kinda get it out.
Part 2
I remember when I first realized what was happening. Things had been a bit weird with Dad for a few weeks – he was on call and working late a lot more than normal, and was in much better spirits than I'd seen him in for years. At the time, I'd taken this in and accepted it with the self-centeredness of youth, never wondering about the cause.
Then one day he came home early, while I was still eating dinner, and sat down across from me with a half-smile on his face. Dad was a former Army doctor who now worked in the University hospital downtown. He was 6'3" and a steady 220 pounds for years, though every year the muscle-to-fat ratio dropped a bit, with lighter brown hair than mine and grey eyes to my green.