Her face was bruised and blood coming from places it shouldn’t. Her right eye was swollen, purple with bare colored foundation covering it. Her lips plump like she got injections with pink lip stick. Her beautiful long black hair curled. Cheeks high and puffy. The fact that my own father could do such a thing broke something inside me. I knew it broke her too. These would remain a part of us long after skin and bones were healed. It was sadness in her eyes, a heaviness, an unyielding sorrow that affected her speech and robbed her from her once easy smile.