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“Get up!”
With no other option, I climb to my feet, using the bedframe to hoist myself up, glaring at him as tears continue to fall from my eyes. I don’t even recognize him as my father anymore. He’s turned into a monster.
“Tomorrow, you’re flying to meet Danya at his house in Russia,” he says, his eyes as dead and unfeeling as Jacob’s always were. He used to have a soul, but something happened, and it’s gone now.
“I’m not going to Russia. You can’t make me,” I reply, finding the strength to defy him once again.
He can hit me all he wants, but as long as he doesn’t kill me, I have a case against him. The police don’t take kindly to abusers.
He smiles, his teeth yellow from smoking. “You’re going. That’s final.”
He turns around, walking to the door and closing it hard behind him.
A moment later, I hear him doing something, and there’s a sound of metal against wood. I go to the door to open it, but I can’t. It’s jammed.
“I’ll let you out in the morning,” my father’s muffled voice says through the door.
“What the fuck?!” I exclaim, pulling and shaking the doorknob to no avail.
It’s stuck.
“See you in the morning,” he says, his voice fading as he walks away.
I slam my fist into the door, shouting obscenities at him until my voice is hoarse and raw, but he doesn’t come back. He’s trapped me here without any connection to the outside world, and the rain is still coming down so hard outside that if I opened the window, I’d probably drown.
Plus, I’m on the second floor. It’s not that easy to get down, and I have nowhere to go even if I did make it into the yard without breaking my legs.
I drag myself to the bathroom to wash my face, cool myself off, and assess the damage. I’m still in shock that any of this has happened, and the wine isn’t helping. Everything feels hazy and unclear, and I can’t think straight to save my life.
I start crying again when I see my battered face in the mirror. It’s already swollen on the side that he hit me, and there’s a gash on my cheek from where my skin split from the impact.
I’ve never had a man lay his hands on me like this. It’s scary and humiliating.
I splash my face with cold water from the sink, and it feels like heaven against my burning hot skin. Mucus mixed with blood drips from my nose into the marble bowl, and tears blur my vision so bad that I almost fall over.
I hold myself still on the counter until the wave of panicked sorrow passes. I feel like throwing up, but I know it’ll only make things worse. I need to stay calm and breathe. I’ve gone through more painful things in my life. I can handle this.
I think back to my mom’s funeral. I was only fourteen, but it feels like just last week we were driving there. I was crying so hard that day that I felt like my head would explode and I’d be put in the ground with her.
Right now, I wish I had been.
If she were here, none of this would’ve happened, but God took her too soon.
I struggled with my faith after that, turning to material things to take the edge off, but nothing could bring her back. My life was changed forever, and God was no longer the nice guy who made the flowers grow in the spring and forgave people for their sins.
He was just some idea floating around in the back of my head, and I can’t say I’ve given him much thought until now. Maybe this is my punishment for abandoning him after my mom died. Maybe he has abandoned me in return.
I stare into the sink for a long time, lost in muddy memories of the way things were before tonight. I wish I could rewind everything to a time when I only cared about wandering around in the back yard, collecting little yellow flowers to give my mom when she called me in for dinner.
I could’ve sworn I’d seen a fairy once or twice. I just wish things could be that simple again.
But they’re not. I have to make peace with that truth, if only so that I can fall asleep tonight and have the energy to defy my father’s wishes again tomorrow.
Fuck that asshole. God, I really hate my father. I’m at the point where I could claw his eyes out and not feel guilty about it, but I would still hate to hear his fucking voice as he screamed in pain.
We both suffered when my mother died, but I don’t think he suffered enough. He hardly seemed to care, and now, for whatever reason, he seems to have stopped caring about me too.
I’ve been abandoned by everyone, and I’m truly alone now.
