The faint sound of soft cries filled the room as Marieli stood there looking down at her father. The Datascope's one toned beep overpowered her mother and sister's cries of grief as she stood emotionlessly. Her mother came up from behind her and hugged her tightly as Marieli felt her mother's warm tears dampen her blouse. Her sister tried to calm herself down as she wiped her wet cheeks and redden eyes.
Why wasn't Marieli reacting that way? Why wasn't she on her knees, praying for some sort of miracle to being her father back to life. She knew why, she knew why she felt no empathy towards her family members in this moment.
Because they had no idea what he had done to her. Was it wrong that she felt as if a weight was lifted off her shoulders after the doctor had told them that her father might not make it?
Was it wrong to feel free knowing that her father would no longer hold an unreasonable amount of authority over her?
It might not be the most ethical response to hearing your father has passed away but it was her response. And she was perfectly fine with it. Or so she thought.
In some twisted way, Marieli felt responsible for her father's passing. She had wished this upon him many times before even if she'd never admit to it out loud. She'd hope this would happen some way or another, but surely not this soon.
Her father was merely in his 60's. Still working a 9-5 and providing a steady income for their household. She appreciated his hard work of course, but did not appreciate how this made him feel entitled to special treatment.
He would often scream at her mother, sister, and herself when things did not go his way.
Simply put he was a narcissist with a god complex and strongly believed he was always in the right.
As difficult as this may sound to believe it was the truth.
and it was hard to believe because to everyone else, he was this kind and down to earth guy.
Everything was a lie.
And sometimes he'd do much worse than just screaming and yelling.
Marieli refused to shed any tears for that abusive bastard who refused to hear any opinion that wasn't identical to his.
The villain has finally been slayed, she thought after one last look at hee father's pale deceased face. Her mother finally released Marieli from an uncomfortablely long hug.
Marieli readjusted her pencil skirt even though it didn't necessarily need readjusting. She often did this when she felt uncomfortable.
She promptly excused herself from the hospital room and hurried out the door. She found a seat in the waiting room and loosened her bun as it was starting to give her a headache.
Marieli rested her elbow on the arm rest and rested her head in her palm, closing her eyes to take a quick rest.
As Marieli started to slowly doze off she felt her heart hurt. Thankfully, not in the way you'd need to alert a doctor for. But in the way where you feel your eyes water.
Was she really sad?
Was it because of her father passing? Or the sudden realization that she never got the chance to confront her father about all the things he'd done. The trauma he put her family through, the abuse he inflicted on her when he had one too many drinks.
She regretted not confronting him all those years ago. When she had the chance.
as Marieli softly cried in the waiting room she realized that what hurt most was that she still missed her father. After the abuse she suffered through. Years and years of being told that she was a disappointment, failure, and a slut like her mother. She still missed him.
Marieli decided that when recalling her father's memory, she'd retell the stories of when he would buy her ice cream and take her to amusement parks, take her bike riding with her twin sister, and kiss her injures better. For the beginning of her childhood, he was a good father.
What a shame that didn't last.
After everything, she missed him. To a certain extend of course.
Marieli sat up in her seat as her tears dries up. Suddenly she felt a tap on her shoulder.
"Is this yours?"
