Break the Child: Prologue: In Dad's Own Words
Break the Child
Beware of the monsters that dwell in the mind.
- Katie Bell
I am a humbled man. My name is Stephen Barnet and this story doesn’t belong to me; it is the story of a hero.
How do you define greatness?
Mine comes in the package of a fourteen-year-old tornado, with a mouth that never stops talking and a smile that could stop traffic. She coped with such tragedy—even though nobody died, not really, not then. She fancied pop stars, and charged around the house being Buffy and sometimes, when she thought nobody was watching, she still played dress up and wore her mother’s shoes.
I overcame her bedroom, I picked up clothes, tidied jars, and potions, put scattered makeup back in its glittery bag and grieved the loss of my little girl. A year ago, she was dressing dolls. Barbie Girl—a crash course in childcare. I saw my little girl fade away and a young woman took her place—my Katie—My hero.
I found her Diary, her neat precise handwriting proclaiming it’s privacy on the cover. It was under her pillow where every little girl keeps her thoughts and dreams—and the pen had a pink pom-pom on the top.
Rightly or wrongly, I took a sneak look—and a page led to two, led to three, led to more.
I struggle sometimes, it’s hard you know. But my daughter’s words have pulled me through. As the pages turned—and day became night, became day, she changed from a chatterbox child, to the young woman that will always see me through.
Katie is the reason I can’t carry on—and the one who taught me that I have to.
This is Katie’s story—in her own fabulous mixed-up words.
Katie Barnet—my daughter—my hero.