At the ripe age of 13, you left me alone with our alcoholic father without saying a single word to me—an explanation why you left. I was confused because you loved me dearly, at least that’s what you always told me before tucking me in bed. I cried all day, but I also waited at the door—hoping, maybe you’d come back for me?

A few days after you left, I saw on the television that Highwarden—a cita...