Fighting Chance

Chapter 1: Why?

Why is she so distant?

Why is she always sad?

Why is she angry?

Why does she shut everyone out?

These are the types of things I've become accustomed to people whispering about me no matter where I go. Most people didn't know the answers to these insensitive questions. But it's not as if they actually cared to discover the reason. They just liked having someone to be the topic of their senseless gossip. I've heard all the 'rumors' about me. Few knew about how my life, my family, and my heart had been shattered in one night. It was for the better that they didn't know though. The ones that knew my past kept their distance and just stared with eyes full of pity whenever I was around. That's all I ever got, pity. And I hated it.

I remembered when my parents were happy. When we were a sweet, wonderful family. When Daddy bought Mommy flowers, kissed her passionately, and treat his family like royalty. The gross shit out of romance movies that we gagged over as children was the life I was once accustomed to. That all changed as abruptly as a gunshot.

The fairytale ended when Dad started getting home late. Drinking with buddies. "I'll never be an alcoholic. I just like a couple drinks here and there," was always his excuse when Mom confronted him about his drinking problem. The lies never ended after that.

He started getting drunk regularly, coming home angry and abusive. I remember the times he would hit me. My mom saved me most times, taking many of the beatings for me. I was too young to fully comprehend what she sacrificed to keep me safe back then. But still she loved him. She never left, even when she could, and should, have. She always put me before her own health, regardless. She knew the damage that would be caused for me if she were to leave. He would never stop trying to get me back, no matter what. And once he succeeded, she wouldn't be able to save me from his abuse any longer.

However, looking back now, I wish to the highest power that my momma would have gotten out while she could. Because one horrific night was all it took for the mistake of my mother to alter my world for the rest of my life.

8 Years ago:
Dad wasn't home yet, like normal. Mom bustled around like a mad woman, trying to get dinner on the table as quickly as humanly possible. She knew he would be home any moment now, probably in the drunken state that had become his personality for months. I, as a nine year old, barely understood about the bruises lining her arms and sometimes even her face. I could hear him scream at her before storming out of the house in the quiet of the night. I could hear her sobs, see the dark circles under her eyes and the grey hair starting to shine. And, most of all, I could see her fear. It poured out of her like water from a waterfall, although she did try to keep it under wraps for my sake.

Mom had just finished laying the spaghetti on the table when we heard the car pull into the driveway. I shuddered, knowing it was my dad. Mom noticed and came to me, wrapping me in her arms. I could see the familiar glint of fear in her eyes as she glanced towards the door before turning her frightened eyes back to me.

"Veronica, I love you. No matter what, I always will, mi amor," she murmured, stroking my hair affectionately. We heard heavy footsteps on the porch as she pulled away.

The door burst open and there stood my dad, drunk as expected, but even I could tell it was worse than normal. He stumbled towards the table and collapsed into his chair. He looked down at the food in front of him. A terrifying expression overtook his face.