❛❛I spy with my little eye, a little lie.❜❜
Catherine Moore's courage to leave a cruel and abusive Maxwell Kelvin led her to the unforgiving streets with no roof over her head. Just when things couldn't get any worse, fate deposited her at the doors...
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FIVE YEARS AGO
"You shut the fuck up! You have spent more than half my fucking money without my fucking permission!"
"Oh, what do you know! You only give me five hundred a fucking week, i have kids to feed, clothes to buy for them!"
"You are nothing but a spoilt fucking brat, you know that!"
"Oh, really David! But you spend money in bars and women. You have a family at home!"
I close the door.
And then the noise fades into muffles, and my forehead rests for a split second on the wood.
Waiting for the moment I have to run downstairs to protect my mum, I look inside my room and see my little sister bawling her eyes out in the corner.
I make my way towards her, sliding down the wall as I push her head against my chest.
Her tears soak my shirt, "it's okay, they're just acting...for the play in the church." I whisper to her; she looks up at me.
"Really?" She mumbles, I smile nodding my head. I sit her up in front of me, removing the hair tie from her messy hair as I begin to clean it up for her. I bend over, grabbing the brush from my vanity table and settle back down properly.
"Yeah-" The brief silence is broken by a tremendous crash, and I stand up and take Lucy's hand. She starts crying again, the door slams open, and my father enters. He staggers forward, pointing his finger at us while holding the beer in the same hand. I shove Lucy behind me.
"Tell her to shut the fuck up!" He crouches a little, trying to grab Lucy.
I push him away slightly; Lucy is only six years old.
Six.
Sometimes he forgets that.
My father's eyes widen, most likely at the notion of me ever touching him. Fear creeps beneath my arms and sends shivers down my spine. Because I am prepared for what is about to happen, a minute felt like an hour.
His hands find my cheeks, and my head snaps to the side. Lucy keeps crying; it's natural. This is typical. He's just stressed out since he has a lot of work to accomplish. He drinks to get rid of the stress. This is typical; nothing to worry about. He is still my father at the end of the day. He looks after me and offers us everything we want. At the end of the day, we can't complain.
He is my dad.
I love him.
I will always love him.
He slams the door behind him, and I wipe the tear away from my face. "See, It's all just a little act. He's just joking, we were playfighting." I croak out, Lucy wipes her nose with her sleeve and nods gently. "Alright, you have school tomorrow. Let's get you to bed."
