Shattered

Dad

It's been three days since the funeral, I still refuse to believe she's gone. It's just dad and me now, and the kitchen's still a mess- just like dad. He tries to act like nothing happened, but you can't ignore something like this. I rolled of bed and checked my calenedar; thank god it's Saturday. Summer is almost over, and I never want to go back to school. How can I go back to school when my mom isn't there to pick me up? Or make my lunch and kiss me goodbye? Or tell me I'll have a great day and that everything will be okay? It's so hard to act like everything's okay. Every morning I wake up I keep thinking; she'll be here in the morning, making her delicious pancakes and greeting us with her warm smile. But she's not. I wake up in the morning and the house is dead, just like my mother.

"Dad?" I whispered quietly as I crept through his open door. He hasn't been out of the house since mom died, he's been a mess. I sat down on his bed. Suddenly, I heard a soft choke. I poked around the room: clothes were strewn everywhere, his bed was a mess. I went to the closet, and there he was....Holding a half empty bottle of liquor. His hair twisted in all directions and was shiny with grease, his clothes were dirty and dotted with stains, and his unshaven face was grimy. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot. It was sickening to see my father like this. The same father that taught me how to ride a bike, the same father that held me close when I had nightmares, the same father that loved me so much; all torn apart and broken. I swallowed hard. We both had to overcome this, it wasn't easy. "Dad..." I choked, "You've got to stop hiding from this. I know, I'm scared too. I want her back just as much as you do but we have to overcome this......crying and sulking isn't going to bring her back." He glared up at me; sorrow and heartbreak burned in his eyes. I sat across from him. His glare weakened and he took a sip of his liquor. I reached out and put his hand in mine.
"No...." His voice shook as he whispered. "It's not going to be alright, Christina." "It's never going to be alright!"
He yanked his hand from my grasp and pushed his way past me through the closet door. "Look around us Christina! We are alone! I lost my job Christina."
"C'mon Dad... We can do thi-" I began.
"NO!" He yelled. A crazy, raged look burned in his eyes. My heart pounded against my chest. My dad has never acted like this before.
His bottle of liquor shook crazily in his hands: he became hysterical. "She's gone Christina! The woman I love is gone! And it's all my fault...." He broke down on the bed, on his hands and knees. What does he mean? He wasn't in the car with her. This isn't his fault. "Dad..." I rested my hand in his shoulder as he sobbed into the bedspread. Suddenly, he stopped. Slowly he lifted his head and met my gaze; tears glistened in his dark brown eyes and stained his flushed cheeks. Suddenly, as he stared at me, hovering above him...Something in my fathers eyes cracked. The color drained from him as he rose from the bedside. He towered over me, staring me down. What's up with him? I thought. "No...," he croaked. "It's not my fault."
"Of course it's not daddy, it's no ones fa-"
"It's yours," he interrupted.
What? This must be some mistake! What is he thinking?! It's not my fault! It's no ones! No ones.....
I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and from my own father! My fathers eyes turned to ice as he stared me down. My heart began to burn inside me. I wanted to run away and cry, but I couldn't! I was scared. Why would a father say that to his own daughter?! From that point on.... I knew that wasn't my father anymore.