I felt like I was going to vomit. I could feel every emotion well up inside me. My head was spinning, I could barely stand up straight as every mussel in my body tightened. I was shaking and I could feel the tears coming and the fear in the pit of my stomach as I looked back at the face of my dad standing in the door way.
"Nice to see you too." My dad said leaning against the door frame. I tried slamming the door in his face, but he stopped it with is hand and foot. I quickly started to back up as he entered the house.
"How did you find us?" I crocked.
"Oh, did you forget I was there the day of the hearing when they said you were going to live here." He said.
"I remember that day perfectly. It was one of the best days of my life, I was finally going to get away from you." I said continuing to back up trying to pull things in front of me to slow down his pace of walking towards me.
"Ouch, that actually hurts." He said sympathetically, holding his hand over is chest where is heart was, looking hurt.
"Good." I spit at him. "But you will never know real pain until your beaten by your own father for years and years." I gasped trying to hold in the tears, as I backed up into the space between the kitchen and living room. All he did was laugh. That sick bastard caused me endless pain and he's laughing at me?
"What do you want from me?" I questioned him, grabbing the wooden bar stool chair and held it in the air towards him, trying to stop him from moving any closer. "Why did you come? What more could you possible do to us?"
"Oh I'm here to take the three of you home." He told me. "Where are the other two rug-rats anyway?"
"That must be a fucking joke."
"Nope see, that same day of the hearing I was not only sentenced to jail time, but I had to go to therapy and rehab and all that shit." He started to explain.
"So why aren't you there now." I asked.
"Good behavior." He said like it was an accomplishment.
"Excuse me?" I asked shocked.
"I got out on good behavior and now that I'm out, I'm here to take the three of you back." He said with the coldest, darkest expression on his face. I didn't even recognize him. This man wasn't my dad, my dad was gone.
"You can't do that!" I cried.
"Watch me?" He said and lunged at me. I quickly threw the chair at him, but he pushed the chair out of his way, grabbing it in the air and threw it to the ground.
I tried to run away, trying to make my way to the living room and circle back around to the front of the house, but I was practically cornered and when I tried he grabbed my arm, throwing me to the ground. I yelled out in pain as my body made contact with the floor and slid across the floor so I was stopped by the wall. I tried to get up, but he walked over to me grabbing my hair and pushed me again, falling back down to the floor.
This was not happening. Please tell me this a dream? Brain wake up, please be a dream! Please! I started begging to myself. But it wasn't and it only continued to get worse as my dad, who was now a complete and utter stranger to me, started to repeatedly hit me, over and over again. I could feel the tears rolling down my checks as the blows kept on coming, and I begged for him to stop.
"Stop!" I screamed. "Please stop!" I cried, but they just kept coming.
I could feel my body start to go numb. I was starting to lose my eye sight and my willingness to fight back. I couldn't take it any longer. No matter how hard I cried, screamed or begged he wasn't going to stop. He was never going to stop torturing me. Now that he knew where I was, I was no longer safe anywhere. If he could get to me here, he could get to me anywhere. I could never go anywhere with out the constant fear of him finding me. I have no safe haven.
The last thing I remembered seeing was him pulling back his hand and connecting it to my face, as I lost all consciousness, hoping that God could take me out of my misery and I would never have to wake up again.