Fading In

Chapter One

   -This is my own book. I created this from my own imagination and own it completely. I appreciate all readers and am asking that no one takes this story and makes it their own. with much respect, the author :) -

"Go get me a beer.” My so-called ‘father’ grumbled at me, as he effortlessly tossed an empty bottle across the room. I watched as it landed and shattered into what seemed like a thousand pieces. “Clean that up while you’re at it.” 

“Yes, sir.” I said, clear enough for him to hear me. 

I walked into the kitchen and grabbed another bottle for him. It was almost a daily routine. He would sit in front of the TV and drink beer until he passed out. I walked back to the living room and handed him his beer. Not even a single thank you has left his mouth since I was able to speak. I sighed internally and grabbed the broom that sat in the corner of the kitchen next to the trash can. It had always waited in the same spot for occasions such as this, just waiting to be used. He cheered from the living room, where I made my way in. I’m not sure why he would cheer and shout at the TV, it’s not like anyone was able to hear him. The days he did decide to sit and be useless, it was usually because of football. He seemed to be a big fan. I was mostly grateful for these times since I was able to score myself some free time and do what I wanted to do without him yelling at me every few minutes. Although, there were also times like this, where I had to clean up after him. He was a slob. The house wasn’t much, but it definitely wouldn’t have been anything more than nothing if I wasn't there to keep it clean. Not that I would have ever told him that to his face. I knew better than that. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” I heard him growl at me. 

I looked up at him, not sure what he was talking about. I was cleaning the glass as he told me to. 

“Who told you that you could use the broom? Give it to me.” He sneered at me. 

Of course I can't use the broom. I thought and felt a phantom eye roll take play. 

I slowly made my way over to him, unsure of what was to happen. He snatched the broom from my hand and snapped it in two with his knee. To say I wasn’t surprised was nothing more than the truth. 

“Why don’t you use those good for nothing hands, hm? Seems like those pretty little things are useful for something after all, huh?” He said, pointing towards my hands. 

I felt disgusted as he eyed my hands, and then continued to gaze down my body. 

I nodded my head and made my way back to the glass, but ended up being jerked back by him. 

“Don’t you dare walk away from me while I’m talking to you. I expect a response when I ask you something. Do you understand?” He told me with irritation written all over his face. 

“Y-yes, sir.” I wasn’t sure why I stuttered. This has happened to me so many times before, it’s a wonder why I haven’t done something about it. That’s a lie. I’ve learned my lesson too many times to count. 

“Look at me when you speak.” He ordered. 

I dared to make eye contact with him, but just as I was about to speak, I felt a slap come across my face. He let me go and walked off, grumbling something below his breath. I held my cheek and felt my eyes water at the stinging feeling. I willed myself not to cry. I was used to something as small as this. I’ve had worse, so why did it still hurt so much? I brought myself to walk back to the glass and start cleaning it up. 

The sooner the better, I thought. 

This was just the life I lived. My mother passed away after she gave birth to my brother. We were fraternal twins, although I never got to meet him. My dad blamed him for our mother’s death and put him up for adoption a week later. I had always wondered why he didn’t put me up for adoption as well; I was sure my life would be at least a hundred times better than the one I had been living if he had. I’ve always hoped my brother was living a good life wherever he was.