My lily flower

Chapter 1

Ever since I was a little girl, I've always thought love to be easy, like in the movies.

The thought of a good healthy family. A family who have movie nights and go on adventures together. A family who can have a good laughter on humorous occasions. A family who you can share your thoughts and problems with. Or just a family who simply loves each other. And the truth is, it used to be that way, it used to be easy, my family used to love each other.

But that changed.

My father started drinking, to help him with all the stress work put on him. I don't think he ever would have thought it would come to the point where an addiction took its way to him. Due too  the large amount of alcohol he consumed every day, he became abusive towards me and my mother. He abused us for years, and couldn't stop. In the beginning it was only words he told, but they still felt like the most vigorous punch to the gut every time.

As time went by it changed, he started with squeezing my arm hard or pushing me but it escalated quickly into real punches. His temper only grew shorter with every year that went by. We tried to seek help for him, get him drink less, something, but nothing worked. He mistreat us to the point it effected my school work, owing to I rarely showed up at school, as my help was needed at home. If I am to be completely honest, some days I just couldn't stop crying. The bruises I had to cover up, ripped a piece of my heart away for every single inaccuracy and I don't think it will ever fully heal from the trauma.

I have this one memory that is digging into my brain as if swords where stabbing me every second. I had to buy myself a color-correcting-kit, father made it awfully clear no one could see what was going on inside of our home. I followed his order, I was to scared to not. I still see the look of the worried store-lady when she saw the black eye on my face, the purple mark that were impossible to be unseen. Shaking i put the kit  on the counter, fighting to not cry in front of her but succeeded to fail "Are you alright?" she asked, a nod she got as an answer and then I left.

My family was slowly torn apart, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day. And the people I once new, where the people who I become completely unaware of. My mother quit her job, to full time help my father, as I took more care of the household the days I stayed home. The help of rehab or other services that were to help him we were denied quick by the man, he always started arguing if the thought even came up. As non of us wanted the escalation of his anger to be hit, we left the thought swiftly but secretly me and my mother would sign him up to different kinds of rehab, though didn't he attend to any of them. Tragedy enough the only thing that finally worked and fixed the problem, was his death.

Of course I didn't kill him, I would never do such thing, not even to him. After all he is - was - my father, and I loved him with all my heart had to give. I made my best trying hard to remember the time before he was drinking, and I just couldn't help myself from loving him. He was the sweetest human to exist before, he cared for everyone, was the best father I have ever come across. When I got the call he had passed away I couldn't help but feel a slight bit of relief, both for me and my mother. Naturally I was devastated as well, I just lost my father figure, some tears I shed but I made my best to handle the tragic loss.

My mother on the other hand didn't take the news as good. She started drinking a lot repeating my fathers actions as if she had no other choice, but I can not blame her. Living in misery for the majority of the past few years trying to help the love of her life, it must be intoxicating knowing everything after all was for nothing. 

I remember one time I was fighting with her for her mistake to repeat my fathers actions. That was the first time she put her hand on me. Hard she slapped me across the face, my cheek stinging from the pain. I remember how she couldn't stop apologizing after her mistake, crying and pleading over and over again for my forgiveness.