Ok, so I wrote this the other night, when I was having a pretty low day, its not based on experience, but rather, imagination, one of the ways I see coming out to my father playing out in my head.... I haven't written for a long time...
I would love any feedback or critisism
Hugs,
Sarah
Like a father should....
Flesh coloured impact from the left....
"d-da..d...wha..." another from the right.....this one connects with my jaw...
forcing me back into the car, I feel the mirror digging into my back, snapping under the force, the window smashes.
"you...you...worthless, waste of space!" he seethes...."you're not my son"
I can hear the tremor in his voice, I don't think I've ever seen him this angry before...No, not angry....Disappointed
I don't fight back....I can't fight back....he's too strong....I'm too scared, I was always scared of him...
blood dripping from his fist as he raises it to my face again, he grabs the front of my shirt....his fist shaking, white knuckles
Is that his blood or mine?
"go on" I gasp, tears already forming in my eyes "if it makes you feel better.... do it..." I can't look him in the eye....I close my eyes and brace myself for the inevitable impact....
nothing.
I open my eyes, slowly....first one, then the other....
he's just standing there. fist still raised, like a cobra, waiting to strike its prey....
"y-you're right d-dad...I'm not your son...I never was..." I barely whisper, tears rolling down my face...
grabbing my shoulder, He roughly shoves me back against the car....I feel his forearm against my throat...still wet from the blood...
"just...." he pauses, I think he's going to explode "...get out of here, you..." he trails off
"y-you had to kn-ow....y-you m-must ha-ve" I squeak...my voice sounding strained and weak.
"SHUT UP" he screams...."YOU, Y-OU ABOMINATION!"
the look in his eyes.... I know that look.....I've seen it before
Hate.
he shoves me to the ground....towering over me...threatening... his shadow blocking out the light...
pain sears through my palm, as it lands in the glistening shards of glass
"........." he opens his mouth, as if to say something, but no words come out...
I lay there on the driveway, too scared to move.... cowering under him, my eyes downcast, suddenly interested in the oil, the glass, the blood on the pavement...
"look at me" he's almost crying "look at me" louder this time
I lift my eyes to meet his... "...how could you do this to me?" he sobs
clutching my hand tightly "I-I d-didn't ask for this" I motion to myself
"you make me sick" he spat "don't ever come back here"
I knew he would react this way, and still I came, why did I come here?
Was I punishing myself? Did I think I deserved this?
no that wasn't it...
Hope... Hope that he could act like a father should act.... Hope that he would welcome me with open arms
I pick myself up, hurting all-over, shake it off - it doesn't matter right now....
I take one last look at that house, at him....
"goodbye" I practically whisper - more to myself than to him
no response.
I turn my back, on him, on that house, on that life...for the last time
why couldn't he just act...
...like a father should?
