But my blood lubricated his hands, allowing me to slip out and grab the razor to finish the job. It wasn’t the first time he had come after me, but it would be the last. I couldn’t take the constant abuse and terror anymore. I had tried to talk to him, begged him to get help, but he always denied anything was wrong. Finally, I had enough. As I held the razor against my wrist, the tears flowed down my face. I thought about how I had failed as a daughter, how my father had failed as a father. The pain was unbearable, but it was nothing compared to the pain I had been feeling inside. As I fell to the floor, I knew there was no turning back. My father had pushed me too far, and now it was time to end it all.