We Watched the City Burn

Chapter 20

Aurora idles her car in front of the house, while I dash in, ignoring the broken furniture, smashed glass, and other debris strewn on the floor. I tip-toe down the hall and fin Him sleeping, smelling strongly of Gin and vomit. There's no one to hold his head from hitting the sink or the toilet bowl anymore, no one to clean the puke off his clothes. 

I stood there for a moment, wondering what good it would do if I didn't stay home tonight. If I didn't clean up his mess, what if, this once, I just took care of everything again? This was my mother's house, she had spent months making it her dream home, and he was ruining everything. I moved toward him, my hand reaching, I get close to his arm, before I picture his hands coming at me. The burning pain all over my body, him holding me down at night, taking everything that was ever good about me, and tearing at apart.

I turned on my heels, and ran to my room, I pulled clothes out of my dresser, shoving them into a duffel bag. He just kept sleeping and sleeping while I go ready to leave him, just like she had. I was no better than her. I was leaving the last whisper of family I had left behind, all because of this girl that tried to kiss me?

My instincts told me to run, head for the hills and never look back. But my heart, the small part of me that still saw Him as my father, told me that I couldn't leave him. I couldn't leave him to waste away in a pile of booze and dirty clothing. If He died, no one would find him until he rotted into the floorboards.

I couldn't let that happen to him. I just couldn't. Maybe I couldn't fix him, but I didn't have to leave him either. There had to be a way to make him stop hitting me. I could get a lock for my bedroom door; if he wanted to ruin his body and life by drinking, I wouldn't try to stop that, but I wasn't going to leave him.

 I dropped the bag, and sighed, headed back down the hall to the front door. How was I gonna explain this to Aurora? Hell, I just had to be honest. But, honesty is a hard thing to uphold when you don't speak. So, rather than trying to play a game of charades, I waved her off, it took about ten minutes for her to leave, after she screamed at me. But eventually she left.

After demanding that I show up at school so she knew I wasn't dead. I nodded my head so many times I was starting to get whiplash, then I shut the door, locked it, and took a real look at the damage that He had done to my mother's house.

Nearly every room was in shambles, but after sweeping the entire house, dumping bag after bag of booze bottles into the cans it started to look somewhat better. We would need to replace a window, but I could talk to Him about that before he left for work, hitting Him up for something was always best when he was drowning in a hangover. He gave me anything I wanted, just so I would stop talking.

Up until that moment, I never saw just how much I could get away with. I could get money for almost anything and he wouldn't even notice. But, material things didn't fly high on my radar, I just needed to convince Him to get someone out here while he was at work to fix the window, as well as a locksmith to make my door a Anti-Him barrier.

It shouldn't be too hard, after the third word or so, he would swat at me, half-heartedly then head out the door, sunglasses on. It was after 10 when I finished cleaning, when I made my way back to my room, I pushed my desk against the door, and carried my blankets and pillow to my closet, and curled up in a nest with the door closed, trying to convice myself that I had made the correct choice.

 ~

Sleeping in the closet, as it turned out, had kept me safe from any advances he may have made to get in. The desk didn't look jostled in any way, so I felt a bit better about that. I pulled on a fresh new hoodie and pants, making a note that I really had to shower when I got home from school. My hair hung in oily, tangled locks, covering my eyes. My face was shiny and slick, gross.

When I peak my head out the door, a hand reaches out, and yanks me out of the door by my throat.