To Be Home.

5.

It was colder than I imagined. The wind ripping and tearing at my clothes. I didn't cry after that. I walked mindlessly for what felt like hours. I walked until the sun came. When the sun shown through the clouds for the first time, it was like God himself was beaming down at me.
I didn't believe in God after what happened.
"God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers." That was Grandpa's favorite line.
But I wasn't a soldier.
I was just a girl, and the battle that God gave to me was a losing one. How could he do that?

I found shelter by a tall red building. There was a tent hitched up, obviously belonging to someone but not occupied. For the first time in hours I allowed myself to rest. I close my eyes and all I see is Mom. Back when she was clean, I was probably five and she and Dad had taken me to a paint gallery. It seems strange, taking a five year old to a paint gallery. But I loved it, each painting held a story, one with an undeniable weight, but I couldn't appreciate that until later. Dad told Mom to get close to take a picture with me.
Mom held me so tight my face turned red.
She held me and she smiled, she smiled so big I was worried her face might get stuck like that. I haven't seen her smile like that since then. It was an unearthly sight.

That was the last time we did anything as a family. On the way home I watched as Mom run her hand through Dads hair from the passenger side. He looked stressed.

Mom cheated on him, we all knew it.
I think Dad ignored it, or maybe him and Mom talked about it a different time. All I know is that after Mom did what she did it was never the same.

I was so mad at her, how could she go and do that. Break up our beautiful little dysfunctional family.
Then it hit me.
She cheated on Dad with the man that killed her. Stark. That's what people called him. I don't know his real name. Mom only called him Stark. When I was younger I called him Starky. A pathetic attempt at building a relationship with him. Stark was not my father, but I wanted him to be so bad. He was a good guy at first, sweet and caring.
Mom ruined his life.
Then he took hers.

When we moved in he was doing good for himself. He had a job. He had savings money.
He even had a dog, his name was Champ.
He was a big Rottweiler and he was sweet. He'd come lay by me when Mom and Stark were arguing. Or when Mom was selling her body in the next room for a fix. Everyday when Stark left Mom would invite someone over. I never understood that. If she left Dad for him why would she cheat on him. We lived with Stark for only two months until Mom drove him to drink. He would come home from work waisted and still drink every night when he got home.

It was him that pitched the idea to sell Champ. I screamed at them like I was mad. Till my throat burned and my chest heaved. I screamed until Stark pulled his hand back and slapped me across the face.
I was nine.
I looked over to my Mom expecting her to say something, expecting her to have my back and yell at him to never put his hands on me again. All I got was a plain "It's just a dog, Natalie. We can't afford to take care of him anymore."
That was when I knew the Mom I loved was gone. The Mom I loved would have sold every last piece of furniture in this house to keep Champ. She was over the moon the day we moved in when she found out Stark had a dog.

They fought hard over who got to keep the money they got from selling Champ. Stark arguing that it was his dog and his idea. Mom arguing that he owed her for unknown reasons. The argument ended in both of them storming out of the house, Mom chasing after Stark who had an envelope of cash in hand. That was the worst day of my life, until now. I was completely alone. Not even having Champ to keep me company like before.

I was alone as I am now. But this time it's different, I'm not nine anymore.

And I can fend for myself.