A Perfectly Imperfect Love

Chapter Three; Dad.

Dad. He's not quite all there. He has always been distant. Like his mind was always somewhere else. And until I was seventeen I never knew where it was. But then, I found out. In my parent's house, there was this office. Nobody was ever allowed in there. Not even Mum. Only Dad knew the pin to unlock the door. And only Dad knew what was in there. But one day. Dad was drunk. And I was curious. Before the door closed, I slipped in behind him. I was finally in Dad's secret office. Although I really really wish I didn't follow him in that room that day.

What I saw that day broke me. I will never be the same again. Something seriously changed deep inside my soul that day. My life was ruined. I saw my father torcher a man until he died. I witnessed my father murder a human being. And the worst part was I wasn't even phased. Not a single bit. I don't know why. But I knew. I knew he deserved to die. He had to of deserved it. I had to believe my father was not a bad man. Because he raised me. And if he was bad, that meant I was bad.

After that night I started noticing things. Things that I would haven't noticed before. Things like conversations he had on the phone with "work friends". Things like the gun closet having more than just hunting guns. Things like people coming into the house and not leaving. Things like bruises on Mums arms. Then I started to wonder. I started to wonder if he hurt Mum or if she was just clumsy. I started to wonder if he killed other people. I started to wonder if that man did deserve to die. I started to wonder if Dad was a good man, and if not, wonder if I was going to turn out bad.

Then I became scared. Scared of my own father. Scared for myself. Scared for Abby and Shawn. Scared for Mum. but I had to tell myself. That he was my Dad. He was my dad and he was a good man. A good man that would never hurt anyone unless absolutely necessary. I had to force myself to try and forget about what I saw that night. And I did. Sort of. As best as I could. To be honest, I didn't really forget. But I learnt to live with the memory. And I learnt to move on. After a couple of months, everything was fine. Everything was back to normal.