Nightmares Of A Child: Holly Makenzie Winchester-Richardson

"You're Not My Dad"

Holly POV

"Come down to eat, Holly," my mother hollers up at me.

I reluctantly wake up from my strange dream to see the bright sky blue that paints my room. I have photos and personal items on my walls and dresser. Personalizing my space has always been a hobby of mine. Hopping out of bed, I slip out of my pajamas and into my clothes before heading down the stairs for breakfast.

Mom has always made it a point to have meals together whenever we can, and we all eat breakfast together unless her or Don need to go into work early.

"You look nice today," Mom compliments.

I give her a questioning look. "I am wearing the same thing I wore last week." It's just some jeans and a patterned shirt with slightly wavy sleeves.

"Still," Mom says. "You look nice."

Reading the paper, Don informs us, "The fair is coming this weekend. I was wondering if you would like to go with your mother and me." He smiles, trying to get me to say yes.

Shaking my head, I reply, "Probably not. I am going to April's house for a sleepover."

Disappointed he sighs, "Ok." My relationship with Don has been tense over the last couple years, so I rarely go places with him anymore.

To be completely honest, I do not have anything planned for the weekend, but I know April has my back. She will be fine with me coming over. After all, she has been my best friend since I can remember, and we always look out for one another.

During breakfast, Mom brings up my grades. I have been having trouble in chemistry. "I saw on your report card that you got a 'D' in chemistry. You understand that you have to bring that up if you want to stay in the National Honors Society."

Knowing I have been trying my best, I lie, "I will." Chemistry is not my strong point, but I don't want to disappoint my parent's.

Not thinking anything of it, I ask, "Don. Can you pass the salt?" Everyone suddenly goes quiet. You could hear a pin drop. I nervously swallow, knowing that Don gets mad when I call him by his first name.

I hear a deep and raspy sigh. Then Don grits his teeth, probably to control his anger. Giving me a deadly look, Don states, "Holly. I am your father. Call me Dad. To you, I am not Don."

Mom stays quiet.

Whispering under my breath, I scoff, "You're not my dad."

Slamming his fork on the table, Don declares, "I raised you. You are my daughter".

Feeling braver than usual, I stand up to him for the first time in months. "You are not my father! No matter how many times you say it, claiming you are my dad will not magically change my DNA." I wave my arms around as I talk.

Getting up from his chair, Don firmly states,"Do not speak back to me young lady!"

"Don," my mom gently says, trying to get her husband to calm down.

When there is a knock at the door, Don goes to open it seething with rage. One man is on the other side of the door. He is dressed in a long tan trench coat, and his face lacks emotion.

Don rudely asks, "What?"

"I have come for Holly. She is in danger, and I have come to protect her," the man says.

"You think I can not protect my own family?" Don yells.

"No." The man says blankly. "You are not capable of that."

Don punches this man in the face, but from the way my stepdad winces and holds his hand, I'd say he was the one who got hurt. The other guy does not have a mark.