I wince at the harsh sound of the front door slamming shut as he enters our unhappy home. His footsteps echo throughout the quiet house as he makes his way to his happy place. I hear the rustling of bottles as he searches for his hourly fix. It’s around 9:00 pm which means he should be coming for me any minute now. Right on time I hear his footsteps growing louder as he approaches my room. My body still aches from yesterday’s “daddy time”, but I know there isn’t anything I can do to stop his sick nightly ritual.
“Daddyshome!” he shouts slurring his words together as if he was speaking his own language only I can understand.
I could smell the strong and evil scent of alcohol coming closer. The familiar smell of abuse in the form of that poisonous liquid contaminates the air with each breath he takes. I shut my eyes, trying so hard to wake up from this sick twisted dream, but I know now that I can’t. This isn’t a bad dream I can wake up from. This is my reality.
I wake up to find myself on the floor. I look to my alarm clock to see that it is almost time for me to leave for school. My head throbs as the memory of last night stings my mind. His nasty words echo through my head like a song and hot tears sting my eyes. I look down at my arms and legs to reveal the new bruises that he had painted on his canvas. I don’t have much time to dwell given that I have to go to school in an hour, and I just need to get out of this house. Most kids my age complain about going to school but I enjoy it, well…I need it. It’s my escape. My body throbs as pick myself up from the floor. I and search my messy room for some clothes that aren’t ripped or dirty, go to the kitchen to grab some food and head out the door. Before I shut the door I see him there lying on the couch, his limbs spread like a puppet and a bottle in his right hand dangling from the couch. Why is this my life? What did I do to deserve this? I shut the door quietly behind me careful not to wake the beast that is my father. I take a deep breath, and make my way to school.
School went by faster than I would have liked. It’s now fifth period and I’m attentively listening to the faint ticks of the clock in the front of the class room as each second passes by, when all of a sudden I see this boy observing my left wrist. I look to see that my sleeve had ridden up exposing a large bruise. I frantically move my sleeve down covering the mark up immediately, he sees my movement and quickly diverts his eyes. I look down and continue doodling on my notebook pretending to be taking extensive notes on whatever my Psychology teacher Mrs. Baker is lecturing about today. Suddenly something she says catches my attention. She is talking about family. I puff out a breath of annoyance. Family. I don’t even know what that is anymore. My mother passed away from cancer five years ago and ever since then my father started with the drinking. My dad is all I have left so I cling desperately to the hope that the father I once knew and loved will return, replacing the demon he becomes when he pours that garbage down his throat. My teacher, Mrs. Baker asks the class what our definition of family is and she calls on the boy who was previously eyeballing my arm.
“Family are the people who would do anything to protect you and keep you safe. They are the people that would never hurt you.” The boy answers.
He then looked at me and offered a sympathetic smile. I can tell his boy figured out my secret. I could tell by the way he was looking at me. I make a plan in my head to avoid him before he starts asking questions. The bell rings and I shove my books into my backpack quickly, so I can avoid an inevitable conversation with him. I see him looking in my direction and walking over so I make my way out the class room quickly.
The boy was in my next two classes and throughout both of them I felt his eyes on me. After school the boy introduced himself. His name is Sean and told me he wanted to talk to me for some time now but never worked up the courage. He asked if I wanted to see a movie with him after school and I was beyond excited. I was caught up in the idea that someone actually wanted to spend time with me that I completely forgot that he had been observing my bruised body throughout the entire day. I made the decision to avoid the topic and focus on spending time with him.
This would be a first for me. The potential of having a friend. Friends are complicated, I don’t really have any. People tend to see my father in his constant intoxicated state and steer clear of me.
Sean and I had a really nice time together. He never asked about my marks, he just asked about me. What my favorite food was, my favorite movie, and questions like that. We are in the car now, Sean is dropping me off back to the prison that is my house. It’s not that late so I’m hoping he won’t punish me like the previous times. I say goodbye to my new friend and he waits outside my house to make sure I make my way inside safely.
“Where the hell have you been?” my father shouts
“I…I was out with a friend. I’m sorry I was out.” I stutter.
He reaches for his glass and throws it with all his strength and I duck dodging the crystal by an inch. I scream. I don’t know what else to do. No matter how many times he does this, it always evokes the same feelings it did first time. It’s like stabbing a healing wound. It never gets better. I run but he charges at me cursing. Tears flood my eyes and I struggle to see. I fall to the floor and glass cuts my palms and the warm sticky liquid drenches my hands. He grabs me by the hair and slaps me across the face leaving my cheek stinging and almost numb. My vision is starting to fail me and I pray that soon this will be over. All of a sudden I hear the sounds sirens. I hear the sound of breaking wood as the door is forcefully kicked down and then I see black.
I am awoken by the beeping of my heart monitor. The white walled room is foreign to me, a room I’ve only seen in movies. My bruise covered arm has an IV attached to it and my hands are wrapped in bandages from the cuts. An unfamiliar woman sits at the corner of the room along and stands when she sees that I am awake.
“Hi sweetie, my name is Sandra. I’m going to find you a place to live now that your father is gone but right now I don’t want you to worry about that you just need to rest.” She says in a calm voice.
I can’t find the strength to respond so I give the lady a nod. I don’t feel like getting interrogated and talking to people right now so I shut my eyes. My mind is overwhelmed with flashbacks of him. I can’t believe he is gone. It’s finally over. I don’t know where I’m going after I get out of here, but I am happy that it won’t be with him.
“Daddyshome!” he shouts slurring his words together as if he was speaking his own language only I can understand.
I could smell the strong and evil scent of alcohol coming closer. The familiar smell of abuse in the form of that poisonous liquid contaminates the air with each breath he takes. I shut my eyes, trying so hard to wake up from this sick twisted dream, but I know now that I can’t. This isn’t a bad dream I can wake up from. This is my reality.
I wake up to find myself on the floor. I look to my alarm clock to see that it is almost time for me to leave for school. My head throbs as the memory of last night stings my mind. His nasty words echo through my head like a song and hot tears sting my eyes. I look down at my arms and legs to reveal the new bruises that he had painted on his canvas. I don’t have much time to dwell given that I have to go to school in an hour, and I just need to get out of this house. Most kids my age complain about going to school but I enjoy it, well…I need it. It’s my escape. My body throbs as pick myself up from the floor. I and search my messy room for some clothes that aren’t ripped or dirty, go to the kitchen to grab some food and head out the door. Before I shut the door I see him there lying on the couch, his limbs spread like a puppet and a bottle in his right hand dangling from the couch. Why is this my life? What did I do to deserve this? I shut the door quietly behind me careful not to wake the beast that is my father. I take a deep breath, and make my way to school.
School went by faster than I would have liked. It’s now fifth period and I’m attentively listening to the faint ticks of the clock in the front of the class room as each second passes by, when all of a sudden I see this boy observing my left wrist. I look to see that my sleeve had ridden up exposing a large bruise. I frantically move my sleeve down covering the mark up immediately, he sees my movement and quickly diverts his eyes. I look down and continue doodling on my notebook pretending to be taking extensive notes on whatever my Psychology teacher Mrs. Baker is lecturing about today. Suddenly something she says catches my attention. She is talking about family. I puff out a breath of annoyance. Family. I don’t even know what that is anymore. My mother passed away from cancer five years ago and ever since then my father started with the drinking. My dad is all I have left so I cling desperately to the hope that the father I once knew and loved will return, replacing the demon he becomes when he pours that garbage down his throat. My teacher, Mrs. Baker asks the class what our definition of family is and she calls on the boy who was previously eyeballing my arm.
“Family are the people who would do anything to protect you and keep you safe. They are the people that would never hurt you.” The boy answers.
He then looked at me and offered a sympathetic smile. I can tell his boy figured out my secret. I could tell by the way he was looking at me. I make a plan in my head to avoid him before he starts asking questions. The bell rings and I shove my books into my backpack quickly, so I can avoid an inevitable conversation with him. I see him looking in my direction and walking over so I make my way out the class room quickly.
The boy was in my next two classes and throughout both of them I felt his eyes on me. After school the boy introduced himself. His name is Sean and told me he wanted to talk to me for some time now but never worked up the courage. He asked if I wanted to see a movie with him after school and I was beyond excited. I was caught up in the idea that someone actually wanted to spend time with me that I completely forgot that he had been observing my bruised body throughout the entire day. I made the decision to avoid the topic and focus on spending time with him.
This would be a first for me. The potential of having a friend. Friends are complicated, I don’t really have any. People tend to see my father in his constant intoxicated state and steer clear of me.
Sean and I had a really nice time together. He never asked about my marks, he just asked about me. What my favorite food was, my favorite movie, and questions like that. We are in the car now, Sean is dropping me off back to the prison that is my house. It’s not that late so I’m hoping he won’t punish me like the previous times. I say goodbye to my new friend and he waits outside my house to make sure I make my way inside safely.
“Where the hell have you been?” my father shouts
“I…I was out with a friend. I’m sorry I was out.” I stutter.
He reaches for his glass and throws it with all his strength and I duck dodging the crystal by an inch. I scream. I don’t know what else to do. No matter how many times he does this, it always evokes the same feelings it did first time. It’s like stabbing a healing wound. It never gets better. I run but he charges at me cursing. Tears flood my eyes and I struggle to see. I fall to the floor and glass cuts my palms and the warm sticky liquid drenches my hands. He grabs me by the hair and slaps me across the face leaving my cheek stinging and almost numb. My vision is starting to fail me and I pray that soon this will be over. All of a sudden I hear the sounds sirens. I hear the sound of breaking wood as the door is forcefully kicked down and then I see black.
I am awoken by the beeping of my heart monitor. The white walled room is foreign to me, a room I’ve only seen in movies. My bruise covered arm has an IV attached to it and my hands are wrapped in bandages from the cuts. An unfamiliar woman sits at the corner of the room along and stands when she sees that I am awake.
“Hi sweetie, my name is Sandra. I’m going to find you a place to live now that your father is gone but right now I don’t want you to worry about that you just need to rest.” She says in a calm voice.
I can’t find the strength to respond so I give the lady a nod. I don’t feel like getting interrogated and talking to people right now so I shut my eyes. My mind is overwhelmed with flashbacks of him. I can’t believe he is gone. It’s finally over. I don’t know where I’m going after I get out of here, but I am happy that it won’t be with him.