Unbecoming

Blame

//TW Abuse!! Please, please skip if you need to.

The walk back to my house was painful to say the least, I was around 10 minutes away and my body ached.

However, regardless of how much I wished for my bed right now, I still dreaded every second I got closer, not quite ready for what could be waiting behind that door. It was always there in the darker recesses of my mind, the fear of walking in to that house and never coming out again, it always lingered.

Luckily, or rather unuckily for me, all that was going through my head as I walked as fast as my worn out legs could take me was the girl at the park.

I mean, it isn't often a random stranger decides you look lonely enough to attempt to engage in friendly conversation with.

Oh, and then have to comfort you in a moment of complete weakness. That too, That's a new one.

And yet it didn't feel like I thought it would, being comforted like that. My skin didn't crawl at the thought of the way she was so careful in holding me, as if she knew.
As if my wounds where just there for her to see, hidden behind a wall that's foundations had been built strong after years and years of trauma, only to be completely see through to someone who's name I don't even know. It scared me to death, honestly.

But then again, I did have a panic attack on her. Which I'm still really embarrassed about. Thank god I wouldn't have to see her again.

I was nearing my door when I brought myself out of my reverie, reminding myself of what I could be walking into and needing to keep my head from spiralling again. All the lights where off at the front so hopefully he was asleep on the couch or something, I could get away with sneaking past him and up to my room.

Almost immediately the door let out a long creak upon opening it, so much for staying quiet. I check quickly that the locks are there and secure, twisting them once, twice and a third time before making my way as quietly as I can past the living area and seeing a large, spread out lump on the couch. I walk in and lay a blanket over him gently and pause to look at his face, risking my so far successful James Bond mission.

For a brief moment, I saw the man who used to be my father. For a brief moment, I wasn't afraid anymore.

A calmness washed over me seeing him like this, ungaurded, unbroken. A man with a wife he loved. A man with a child he adored. A man before his world slipped through his fingers.

It hurt so much in a way to remember he actually cared once, that he has a reason, however unforgivable it is, to be like this.

I carefully moved the empty beer bottle from his hand, turning and setting it on the coffee table with the collection of others and made a move to leave.

And then a hand grasped painfully at my wrist, forcing me back around to face my father.

The calmness completely drained from me at the look in his eyes. He didn't see me anymore, I wasn't his daughter anymore and I knew exactly what was next.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing." His words were slurred and hiccupy, but held a harsh tone none the less.

I tried to pull my wrist free from his grasp but it only made him grip it tighter, "Dad, please let go, you're hurting me." Tears welled in my eyes, it was a futile attempt but I could think of nothing else to say. I tried one more time to get away.

"You're th-, you're the fucking reason you're mother is dead. You know that right."

"Fuck you. You don't get to say that." I broke down, that was the only thing possible to break my resolve when it came to this, "You don't get to do that. You dont get to tell me it was my fault." I tried so hard to keep the sob bubbling in my throat from tearing through my mouth but it was all too much.

I felt the sting first, and then saw his raised hand, "You. Are the fucking. Reason."

My hand touched the forming mark on my face, feeling the heat radiating from it. So, so different from the gentle feather-light touches the stranger in the park left.

"Please." Another sob, "Please dad, please stop." I hated begging to this man, I shouldn't have to beg for him to love me, to stop hurting me.

"Please, please, please, please." I got on my hands and knees before my legs gave out on their own. Another slap to my cheek. And a knee to the gut that sent my stomach lurching.

His heavy boots lay claim to my side as I eventually gave in to the onslaught of abuse and curled in to myself, taking each kick and punch with a breathless gasp or groan.

"Fucking pathetic little bitch."

You should have been the one to die.

I fucking hate you.

Why was it her and not you, you slut.

Look at you.

Can't even defend yourself.

You're a waste of space.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Pathetic.

Pathetic.

And then it was over.

The shots ceased.

"Get up." His cold voice wrapped itself around me in a blanket of ice.

His hand grabbed my upper arm and hauled me to my feet, my legs weren't stable enough to hold me up so I immediately fell back, "Fucking weak, look at you." I do, every day. At everything.

"I SAID GET THE FUCK UP." One last time he pulled me up, in to his arms.

I felt the cold steel before I felt the pain.

My breath caught in my throat, my hands moved of their own accord and shook over my fathers as he held what felt to be the hilt of a knife dug into my lower stomach. Warm liquid coated my hands and a pain filled scream slipped through my lips.

His hands eventually released me and the knife, stepping back and back until his knees hit the edge of the coffee table. A string of curse words came muffled from his mouth, though everything sounded as though it was coming from far away and a ringing in my ears made itself known.

I stumbled towards the door with any ounce of energy I could muster, and as I reach the door I turn each lock at an agonising pace, holding firm on my stomach.

My father stood shocked, unmoving and unblinking, just incoherently mumbling under his breath. He didn't make a move to go after me so I ran.
Well, hobbled. As much and as far as my body would allow me until it became difficult to do anything. My body was running on pure adrenaline, allowing me a few steps further until finally it gave way and I fell hard on to the pavement.

There, I lay breathless and in pain. Waiting for the end.

Not long after my vision began to dim and a hot, searing pain pusled through my body.

Then I heard rushed footsteps, felt a warm hand on my shoulder, then those hands cradling my head into a lap, then putting pressure on my stab wound.

Then darkness.

The last thing I hear was a muffled voice panicking on the phone to emergency services.

"Please just be quick, she's losing a shit tone of blood and I don't know what the fuck to do."

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AUTHORS NOTE!!

Well then... That chapter huh.

I'm thinking about double updating because I'm too in to writing this story man, it's got me in a choke hold and it honestly ain't even that good.

Im also trying not to go too fast with this story in terms of their meeting, knowing each other, their relationship and beyond that and I dont know exactly how well I'm doing with that but oh well, I love a slow burn.

Side note: I wrote half of this chapter on the way back from go-karting and the first sentence couldn't be more true. ANYWAY, I'll stop talking and write some shit for you, HOPE YOU ENJOYED THS AMAZING CLIFF HANGER!!

Have a lovely day/night :)