Harry's Angel (A One Direction Fanfic)

Chapter 3 - For the Love of a Daughter

(Picture of Mr. Watson on side)

Late Afternoon

"Who's there!"  Growled my father from the other room.  I twisted the knob of the front door closed, stepping into the hallway where I heard the buzzing of the television.

"It's me, Dad," I replied, taking in a breath.

"Come here," he mumbled.

I inched toward the living room, each of my footsteps creaking along the wooden floor.  I wrapped my arms around my stomach before peeking into the living room to see Dad sprawled across the couch, beer bottle in hand; many others were scattered about the room.

"Come here, I said!" 

I did as I was told, and stood at the end of the couch.

"Where have you been?"

"I-I was on the beach," I murmured.

"You're never home."

"I was here last night to clean up this mess."  I dashed toward the kitchen to see the dishes stacked nearly to the ceiling with dishes.  

"Things get dirty," he slurred with a wave of his bottle.

"What is . . ."  I spotted a pile of papers jammed beneath the dishes.  Carefully, I pried the dishes apart and retrieved the papers that were soaked with soap suds.  I browsed through the papers, searching for some sort of clue as to what it was.  "Dad!  These bills are months old!  Why haven't you paid them?"

"Why would I?"

Frustration was growing in my stomach like deeply rooted weeds as I swung open the cabinet door to find numerous unopened envelopes.  I pulled one out and blinked rapidly in agitation when I saw the word FORECLOSURE stamped across the top in red.  I broke into tears as I attempted to cut open the envelop.

"Stop crying.  I can't hear the TV."

Shut up!  I wanted to scream.  I wanted to grip his face by my sharp nails and tell him to get off the stupid couch and start working again.  I felt this uncontrollable urge to tear his eyes out and watch gleefully as the blood poured from his sockets like a waterfall.  What use were his eyes to him anyway?

"Dad!" I screeched.  "We don't have a house!"

"Your in it, aren't you?"

I stormed across the kitchen to the living room and stood in front of the TV.  "Don't you understand?  Our house is foreclosing!  They're taking it next month!  The grace period is over!"

"What period of grace?"  He stood up abruptly, his furious blue eyes staring straight through me.  "If there was grace, then your Almighty, all Powerful God wouldn't have let your mother die!"

I felt my knees caving, shaking from fear of my father who stood over me like a mighty tower.  "The accident was seven months ago, Dad!  You haven't worked since!  What more grace could you want?"

"I want my wife!"  He bellowed, striking me.  I crashed to the floor and a numbing pain came over me, throbbing at the back of my head.  I dare not move a inch and remained frozen solid, lying on the floor until I saw out the corner my eye my father stagger into his room.

The tears began to trickle silently, and I watched as they swirled into my blood.  I had no strength to rise.  Only one thought raced through my mind.

If my Heavenly Father is anything similar to my earthy father, then I want nothing to do with Him.