Abaddon

part 1: opportunity knocks

Callie's POV:

Screaming.

It's all I've heard for 2 hours. My mum hasn't taken the news well of my father's death. Let's just say that the last thing I expected to happen tonight was me answering the door to two policemen, asking to talk to me and my mother. We sat nervously on the sofa, the policemen mirroring each other's expressions. From what I could see, this was not going to be good news.

I don't entirely remember the details of what they said. My body sort of just stopped working. The last thing I heard them say was that his cause of death was a bullet to his heart. After that, their words turned into a hazy blur. I couldn't move. I couldn't cry. I just couldn't feel.

My mum answered their questions. They basically just wanted to know that we didn't murder our father- how nice. When the policemen left, my mother took herself to her room and started screaming. It was a painful scream. I, however, could not move. My father was the only person who has ever loved me. I never said "I love you" to him.

At 18 years old, you'd think I would have told at least one person in my life that I love them. Truth is, I've never believed in love. My mother has never once told me she loved me. I don't know if hate is the right word to describe what she feels towards me, but it's definitely closer to hate than "love".

My father was different.

He was like any other father. Kind, caring and thoughtful. He always tried to do stuff with me, unlike my mother. He spent any free time he had with me, although he was often occupied with work. I couldn't tell anyone what his job was, considering he wouldn't even tell me what it was. He made jokes that he was a superhero and had to go save the world. When I was just a child, I honestly believed him. But now I think I'm old enough to realise that he wasn't serious.

He was my only friend too. He never did tell me he loved me either, but that was okay. I understood he did, he just wasn't ever good at talking about feelings. I liked that though because neither was I.

Him and I are very alike. Well, him and I were very alike.

It's been 2 hours now and I can't bare sitting in the house anymore. I open the front door and step outside into the icy cold. To be completely honest, I like how cold it is. My bare arms start to sting from the sudden temperature drop and I welcome the feeling. It's kind of nice to know I'm not completely numb.

I don't know where I'm going but I decide to take off down the path that leads to the town centre. Taking in my surrounding, I feel a bit more at ease. I'm not sure if this is how you're meant to grief, but I've heard everyone deals in different ways.

The bare trees remind me of skeletons. The way the branches cast shadows on the path gives a sinister appearance to the ground. If it wasn't for my clouded thoughts right now, I'd probably be scared. I'd probably turn the other way and call it a night, but I don't.

I keep walking until I find a bench to the side of the path with an amazing view. Beyond the bench is the town. And beyond the town is the city. I can see the lights dancing around. This is why I love the winter- the Christmas lights always look like a parade of colours from far away. I sit down and watch the lights for a moment.

My brain starts to play my memories of today. What am I going to do? I can't live with my mother by myself, I just can't. She's a wicked person. My dad was always the one to calm her down when she started to get too angry- she always takes her anger out on me. I don't know what I ever did to her to make her despise the thought of me so much, but sometimes you would think I wasn't even her own child by the way she treats me.

I don't have friends to go stay with. I don't actually even have friends. It may sound sad but I've never bothered to make any. When I was young, I was always worried to bring someone over to my house. I'm not embarrassed by the house I live in, it's small but it works for us. I'm embarrassed about my mother. She used to be a raging alcoholic. She never was sober when I was a child until she started getting physical with me. My dad got her to go to a support group, and when I was 12 she stopped drinking completely. She's actually been clean for 6 years now, but sometimes I wish she wasn't.