Personal Narrative: My 16th Day At Home

Today was your 16th birthday, you had looked forward to this day for your whole life. When you were little you would sit in the driver 's seat of your mom’s car while it was parked in the driveway, imagining being 16 and being able to drive. If only you then that being 16 wouldn’t be anything like the glory days you dreamed of.

If you knew when you were a little girl that on the day of your 16th birthday you wouldn’t be driving your moms car, but instead sitting by her hospital bed both of your hands full, one with her sick, cold hand the other with your fathers phone number. If you had known this, back then you never would have wished for this day. You would have ran from it, as fast as you could.

-

The paper in your hand was something you had always dreamed of, since the moment you learned to speak you had been asking for your father but your mom always refused to tell you who he was. As you got older and learned about the world and the people in

“You knew, all this time you knew and you never-”

Your voice cracked and you fought back tears. Finding out that your dad, who you’ve wanted to know has known about you this whole time and never tried to contact you. It hurt worse than you could have ever imagined.

Dean sighed, he never wanted to hurt you. He just wanted to keep you safe

“Y/n, there was a good reason your mother and I didn’t tell you. Why did she give you this number? She told me she would contact me before telling you who I was.” Dean was trying to be nice after he realize how hurt you were, but hearing him talking about your mom filled you with rage.

“Yeah well when you find out you’ve got a tumor this size of a golf ball in your head and there 's not a way to get it out calling your daughters baby-daddy doesn 't make the top of the priorities list.”

Both of you froze again, you sniffled back more tears and Dean slowly sat down at the news he just received.

“Y/n, I had no