Love in a Touchdown

Prologue

There were times in my life growing up when I had a few glimpses of the happy family everyone thought we were. The one my lovely parents portrayed us to be. The fake one. The way my parents carried themselves among guests. At the beginning of my life when there were always guests before things got even more serious at home. Parties where I was supposed to not be seen or heard. Invisible. One common thread throughout my entire existence was feeling invisible, until I was not. And even when I was hiding and trying to be invisible, it would not matter if he got in one of his moods. Those are the times where I truly wished invisibility were an actual power I possessed.

I was still young when the guests stopped coming over. I was thankful Dustin was not born yet to deal with the party scene. To never know when a drunk guy would "think" your bedroom was the bathroom and try to get in even though you had the door locked. Always wondering if the door would hold, if one day the person just would not care and break past the handle. It was not like my sperm donor cared about if it did happen. A locked door never stopped his temper so why should it stop a drunk either.

Sure, our family was happy. Our family was perfect. All their "friends" would constantly remind me just how "lucky" I was. People always say how looks can be deceiving, well my existence was living proof of that. If I told or sought help, no one would believe me. They would believe them. The adults. The parents who knew what was "best" for their kid. That it was simply discipline. What parent did not "spank" their child? That I was just making up stories because I was getting punished for misbehaving. That my imagination ran wild like the horses in the fields. The web of lies they allowed friends, business acquaintances, and even law enforcement to believe for the longest time. Why didn't they believe me? There was pure hatred and narcissistic behavior that my parents were prone to hiding. They were able to conceal shear evil. It was a shock they even got away with it considering the violence that was hid within the shadows. How are you so believable to the police who are constantly at your house for wellness checks? How do you lie through your teeth when your young child has caked on makeup that Mommy just had to do for her own protection. Why was she so insistent on protecting a monster? Who was supposed to protect me? Makeup can cover a lot of things. They were hoping it would cover up the broken girl forever. They thought once I was old enough to do my own the cycle of concealer would continue to cover up their crimes. That no one would ever know. How would they know? They had me trained. I knew the consequences. I knew what happened every single time I tried to tell someone. Every time I tried to get help. I thought I was protecting myself more this way; keeping the secret seemed to have less beatings than what happened when they found out I told someone- and they always found out. Hindsight is 20/20, I guess.

I always did my best to protect my brother from the monster. I just wished our demons did not live in the same house. It would be a whole lot easier hiding from the monster if he stayed under the bed. My mother was so convinced that he would change. Why she thought that was beyond me. Did a tiger change his stripes? She was so desperate to give him what he wanted; to appease him. To give him a son. Thinking a boy in his life would put a Band-Aid on his alcoholism and cruelty. Afterall, that was the only thing he wanted. That was why he was so mad at me right?

Well, if it quacks like a duck and walks like a duck, it is probably a duck. Things did end up changing when my brother was born, but he never did. No, he never would. But I did. I changed into a guardian. A protector. I wanted to be the person I never had to lean on. All I ever wanted was for my mom to take care of me one time. For once, to prioritize my protection over the drugs and lifestyle she had. Half the time she was so busy with something up her nose she did not even realize how bad the injuries were until the next day when she had to help cover them up. I was strong enough now that I could manage him. I was older and knew what I had to do to survive. It was all up to me. It was different now than when I was a little girl. That girl was gone. He took her away just like he took Layla. Gone were those innocent girls and gone was the childhood I always dreamed of having. The one where I was happy and had two loving and nurturing parents.