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“You’re nothing but a useless whore spreading your legs for that boy!” He looked me up and down, with a sneer on his face. I could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath. The glare on his face made me feel like trash. “You’re nothing but a disgrace like your brother!”
And then he slapped me.
He’d never hit me before, but now I could remember times where I’d caught him hitting Graham.
Tears stung my eyes and my cheek felt like it was on fire.
Silence hung heavy in the air.
I didn’t move and neither did he.
We just stood there, staring at each other, waiting for the other person to make a move.
I was frozen, afraid that if I moved he’d come after me. I’d never dealt with a situation like this. What was I supposed to do?
After what felt like an hour, but was really more like seconds, he turned away. He walked at a leisurely pace back to his office. To a casual observer he seemed unaffected, but I knew my dad and I could tell from the rigid curve of his shoulders that he was still mad. Mad at me? Or himself? I wasn’t sure.
When I knew he wasn’t coming back I gabbed my suitcases and dragged them up the steps behind me.
I was shaken, but I refused to cry.
I would not be beaten down.
I stood in the doorway of my bedroom, looking towards the closed door of my parent’s room where I was sure my mom lay. It pissed me off that she had done nothing to protect Graham from that monster. What kind of mother didn’t protect her children? The answer was easy. The kind that was scared.
I closed my bedroom door and locked it.
I heard the garage door open a few minutes later and I knew he was gone.
I tore my room apart, searching for a camera. I was convinced he’d put one in my room too, if he was crazy enough to have one on the front door. I didn’t find it though. If there was one in there, it was well hidden. I stood in the middle of my room, hands on my hips, staring at the destruction. It kind of looked like my life. A chaotic, out of control, mess.
God.
I sunk to the floor.
My butt landed on a shoe and I flinched. I picked it up and threw it across my room. It dented the wall, but I didn’t care.
I pulled at my hair, letting out a scream of frustration. I was so done with this. With my life. When did it all get so fucked up? Simple, it always was.
But as a child I’d looked the other way, thinking it was normal.
And it wasn’t that my dad was always a bad person. He had his good moments. But all I could see now was the bad moments. He had a temper and he wasn’t afraid to raise his voice or use his fists.
Rowan had been right.
Graham’s suicide had nothing at all to do with Jude.
It was all them.
My parents.
Mom and dad.
The two people that should’ve loved and cared for us unconditionally.
What a load of bullshit.
Even my mom, when she wasn’t in her catatonic state, hadn’t been all rainbows and sunshine. I couldn’t remember seeing her hit Graham like my dad did, but she did yell a lot. Graham and I were expected to succeed and when we failed…well, the repercussions weren’t pretty.
