Our Struggle

O is for Open

15 years ago.

A young girl ran through the large double doors, her bright pink socks pounded against the black floor as she darted to her father. "Daddy, look!" She wore an innocent smile as she panted between her words, "look Daddy, look!" The child's rosy cheeks resembled small apples as her tiny fingers reached up and tugged the cold material of her father's suit.

Her eyes were like tiny globes, full of wonder and glimmering with pride. Her smooth lips were turned upwards into the most sincerest of smiles, revealing a few missing teeth.

"F****** Blaire," the tall man muttered, dragging a hand over his prickled face. The girl strained her neck upwards, watching her father curse her mother.

"Blaire, come get your f****** kid right now!" His voice thundered out of his office and across the whole western suite of the house. A drum was felt in the little girl's chest as she jolted behind her father's towering figure.

"Look Daddy," She whispered softly, with the courage only a child could possess; the father looked down at the oblivious girl, leaning back in his expensive chair. The browns of his eyes were streaked with disgust as his mouth curled into a snarl. In one rapid movement, he shook the child off him, causing her to tumbled to the ground.

The girl's eyes widened in shock as her bottom lip quivered, "ow." She squeaked as she stood up shakily, her face pale from taking such a sudden fall. "I-I'm o-ok."

"Leave." The man was too focused on the flimsy sheets of paper that rested safely on top of his mahogany desk.

The girl slowly approached her father again, "I," she stammered, "I made you a picture," her soft, petite hand rested on her father's thigh, "for Papa's day."

Her father took no notice, instead, his eyes scanned across the monotonous numbers of a spreadsheet.

"D-do you like it?" The girl's babyish voice proceeded to attempt to erode the silence and anger within the room, "Mrs Rosen said it would make you happy." She affirmed.

The girl's father paused, looking down at the small, shaking hand that held a folded sheet of paper. His eyes traced over the bright colours of the rainbow which hung over two stickman: a father and his daughter.

It was messy, but in the most beautiful way. Each bumpy line had been drawn by a child who struggled with her pencil grip, yet whose determination forced her to finish the project.

For her father.

The father smiled softly at her creation, before reaching down to stroke his daughter's soft, chubby cheeks.

Their eyes locked and for a brief moment, one could infer that they had a normal relationship.

But they didn't.

Because then came the noise.

The noise that broke the little girl's heart. Though, at the time, she hadn't a clue the damage that was done.

"Your card said you loved daddy more than anything in the world?" Her father's voice reassured as the little girl stared at the tiny pieces of paper on the floor, frozen like a statue as her pretty mind tried to understand what had just happened. Limbs of stick men and broken rainbows were piled on top of each other.

"Yes?" He prompted, anchoring his daughter's chin towards him in a slow manner.

The girl's eyes were filled with fresh tears, with one tumbling down her plush cheeks. Her bottom lip was sucked in as she gazed at her father.

"If that's true, then you'll do as I say, yes?" Her father continued, the softness of his voice drained away as he narrowed his eyes into slits, "leave Daddy alone." He pushed her fragile body back as he swilled back around on his chair.