Caught Up In His World

T w o

As I got closer to my destination I slowed my pace. I dreaded walking through that door everyday to the point where it made me physically sick.

I know your probably confused as to why, and I'll tell you when I was about 6 years old my mother and I went out the grocery store but on the way a car had crashed into us, I was in critical condition for weeks but my mother never made it out alive. Ever since the day she died my dad hated me saying it was my fault that she had died and if I wasn't born she would have never died. He blamed me everyday and I felt guilty that I had killed my own mother. When I turned 10 my dad became worse he had started drinking and doing drugs, one night he came home and he beat until I was passed out in the living room. I would show up to school telling people that I just fell or making up an excuse to hide the truth. Now it's a regular thing my dad beats me, sometimes he's not home which makes so happy. I cry everyday missing my mother and wishing she was still here and this would never happen.

I slowly took the keys out of my bag and inserted it into the lock, I turned the key and opened the door revealing an empty hall. I stepped inside and removed my shoes, I walked into the living room where my dad was sprawled out on the couch surrounded by beer bottles. Not wanting to wake up my dad I silently walked out but to my dismay my father woke up

"Where do you think you're going?" He questioned me.

"I was going to my room." I replied annoyed as I was so tired and just wanted my bed and sleep.

He stoop up from the couch and walked up to me as he stood infront me he raised his hand and slapped me, I shrieked as I could feel the stinging.

"DONT EVER TALK TO ME THAT WAY! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" He yelled out.

"Yes sir." I replied on the verge of tears. He looked at me disgusted then walked to door and left slamming the door on his way out which made me jump.

I ran upstairs to my bedroom and closed the door. I stood with my back to the door and dropped to floor breaking down into tears, loud sobs escaping my mouth every so often. Why did he hate so much? I didn't kill her it was the other car. I cried more as I thought about it. I wish it was me that had died that day.

As I recovered from my crying I stoop up and walked downstairs and made dinner, ate then
headed upstairs to have a shower, brush my teeth and change into pyjamas.

I fell against the bed and immediately let sleep take over me as I was so tired from the eventful day I had today. Not caring if my dad would make it home or not.