Touch Me

Day I Die

I could hear only the muffled yelling of my mother and father from downstairs. I could hear things being thrown, glass breaking, but above all else, yelling. Their fights are never quiet.
I don't even know what their fights are about most of the time. I do know that it was always scary.

I locked my door when the fights got heated, and tried to just block out the noise. I never could. They were screaming.

My heart dropped to my stomach when soon after the front door slammed, I heard loud, booming footsteps up the stairs. My door soon began to rattle, the sound of his fists slamming on the door, like gunshots. It's at that point when I have to make a decision. Very quickly. To either keep my door locked, probably end up having to barricade it, and wait in fear for what could be hours, until he blacks out and is forced to stop, or I can unlock my door, and undoubtedly face a senseless, bloody battering, which would be over far sooner than the waiting.

If I keep the door locked, all I'll be able to do is hide in my bathroom in fear for hours, and just pray he isn't able to knock down the door and get to me. If I unlock it, I will get beaten, no doubt. But I will save myself the hours of fear and uncertainty. It's just a matter of which is worse.

As the banging on my door got louder and more violent, I heard the voice of my father shouting "Open this door!!"
It was like he was screaming it at the top of his lungs. His voice sounded raw from the yelling.

I was unable to keep myself from reaching to the handle and unlocking the door. My eyes were already as wide as can be. My breathing was a shaky mess. I quickly tried to wipe my eyes before he'd notice and make a remark, but i was too slow

"The Hell are you crying for?"

"I'm sorry.. I uh.. the fighting.. that's all.."

"Grow a spine, kid!"

I quickly nodded, but he continued to mock and demean me, getting closer to my face every second

"Ohh, does it make you cry when mommy and daddy fight?" Said in a mock-sympathetic tone, talking down to me as if I was a toddler, just to make me feel poorly "did I hurt your little feelings? Do you cry like a baby when daddy yells-"

"Stop it!!!" I shouted unwillingly, only realizing what I had done, when it was too late. My face went numb. My eyes were filled to the brim with tears. He was so close, I was gagging at the smell of the dozens of beers on his breath.

"What did you say to me..?"

"I..."

He put a firm grip on my shirt to keep me in place

"What did you say to me..?" He repeated

"I-I'm so sorry... I didn't mean it!! Please, I'm so sorry!!"

"Stop crying!! I didn't raise a daughter, so stop acting like one!"

"I-I'm sorry... yes, sir.." I whimpered, trying to mask my sniffling. It was no use trying to cover it up, tears were running down my cheeks.

He swiftly slapped me across the face, and thats when they really began to fall. I tried to muffle my immediate sobs, but it only made me choke on them. It only made it more apparent.

I wanted to apologize, but I knew I'd only make it worse, the weaker I seemed.
I found it best to just keep my mouth shut, and try my hardest to keep my crying silent.

I was shaking to no end, and trying to keep from sobbing.  I felt sick as he stared at me, his nostrils flared, while he decided my fate. 
He had nothing but unfiltered anger in his eyes. There was nothing but unfiltered fear in mine.