MONOLOGUE NO.5: LISSIE Alyssa Lara
When I was younger, I must've been like five or six, I would throw these huge tantrums to my dad—this was before he died. Because I wanted my mother, and not him. I wanted my mother to be the one to dress me, and to do my hair, and make me breakfast. But she was always the one making money and going off on business trips. Of course she's not here today. Of course. Didn't even stop to think that her daughter is turning seventeen. Throw a party! It's okay if you trash the house. We're that fucking rich. Everything is replaceable. Anyway, I blamed my dad for not being my mom. I hated him for not being able to give me what I wanted. And then one day, I was sitting in Ms. Daly's second grade class and I got called down to the office. They said, “There's been an emergency.” My father got into a car accident. Someone was going to pick me up. I wanted to see my mom, but Miles' mom came to pick me up instead. And then I thought: this is the worst day of my life. It's not going to get any worse than this. I was angry at my father for dying, and I was angry at my mother for not being my mother. I would spend so much time at Miles' house that I practically lived there. For seven years. I found out later that my mother was sending checks every week to Suzanne.
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