Dear Journal, We lived a life filled with intentional loss of memory over a man, and father that was no longer required. On the contrary, I needed him. The man with no name ...no face. I required a physical fortress to protect me from the darkness lurking inside Building 232, and the harshness tormenting me from the outside. There were times I wondered if I looked like him, my father that is? I believed that I had because my mother would stare at me for hours, her eyes numb ...lips and fingers twitching, “ Hmm, ...simply terrifying.” Remembering from past arguments with Coral, my father had never truly loved my mother. That he’d eventually turned his back on us. Coral pregnant at the tender age of fourteen with me twirling in her womb. My mother was careful to mention very little details confirming his existence, “A down right hateful bastard.” Speaking nervously, constantly twitching. How ironic that I would come to think the same of her. Surely, this is p...