My Secret AngelMy childhood memories held nothing for me. They were the bleakest times of my life, one I would not wish upon anyone. I used to envy the other children, their stories of games played with their family, gifts their parents had bought them.Mother was a timid woman who submitted to father's every whim. She used to look at me with a strange look in her eye. I could never tell what it meant, but it didn't matter. The woman never once showed she loved me. Other than giving me the basic necessities to keep me alive, she more or less kept out of my way.Father was any child's nightmare. When I was younger, I used to think that if I just pleased hi