Short Stories :P

{30} So-Called Father | Oct 10, 2022

TW: Blood, child abuse, death and injuries

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Whilst stood at her grave, I felt this sort of sadness rush through me. It was as if there was a hole in my heart that seemed even with the hardest attempt will never be filled. "I miss you mom," I whispered, barely able to see anything through the darkness; though the moon lit up the pitch-black night with its white glow.

I just stood there, holding my own hand, a courier bag across my shoulders; feeling completely empty as I felt the little bit of happiness I had left slowly getting drained away. "Kerensa," I heard an all too familiar voice say, though I didn't move a muscle. I fluttered my eyes shut, taking a deep breath, before swiftly turning around and seeing--

"Dad?" I called out in a questioning tone, feeling the emptiness drift away as shock washed over. You see, this man that's supposedly my father left when I was twelve. He got divorced with my mom and just disappeared on us. After walking out, he didn't contact us, he didn't call us, he didn't even have the decency to message us.

Then, the shock faded away as anger clouded my brain, while all I could see was red. "What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice demanding. "I-- I wanted to see you. See how you are doing with... everything that has happened." Antonio--  my father-- stated, making my blood boil even more.

The audacity! After abandoning this family for six years, he just decides to come back to see how I'm doing? If he wanted to disappear, then he should have stayed hidden. He doesn't deserve to be standing at the grave of his once-wife, he doesn't deserve to see me. The mere sight of him maddens me. "Leave." I ordered, eyes wide with frustration; though his face was masked with confusion and surprise.

"What?" Antonio croaked out. "I said leave. You don't deserve to be here. You don't deserve to see me." I elaborated, fury filling my voice. "I-- I'm not just going to leave-- you're my daughter." As those words slipped from his mouth, my heart started pounding faster and faster; not from fear, no, but from the rage I felt for this stupid excuse of a man.

"No I am not! I stopped being your daughter the second you stepped out of our house-- our lives! You can't just waltz over here and act like you deserve a 'father of the year' award." I shouted out. After those words of wrath escaped my lips, I expected a yell back, or maybe even an apology if I was lucky; but no, what I got instead was a harsh slap on the face.

"You do not talk to me that way. I did not raise you to be like the brat you are now." Antonio lectured, a dry chuckle then leaving my lips. "Raise me? Raise me!? You did not raise me! And the fact that you feel no shame saying that proves how heartless you are." I spat out, glaring up at the man. Yet again, his fist came in contact with my face; though this time it was so hard that I fell to the dirt-filled ground.

Blood spilled out of the edges of my lips as I could already feel bruises growing on my left cheeks, the pain spreading around the entire left side of my face. As I looked up again, locating this man, this man that used to sing me lullabies before bed, this man that used to take me out for father-daughter dates, this man that I used to love and look up to, who now seems completely gone; morphed into a stranger that I don't recognise.

As I stared into his hazel eyes, the same hazel eyes that I have, I didn't see a shred of love; all I could see was hatred, otherwise, complete lifelessness. Finally, I felt afraid. This was not the man that I called my dad; this man, he's capable of hurting me and feel no remorse. Though before anything could happen, I heard someone say, "Ker?" It was Joshua.

I saw Antonio's eyes widen, his brows raising; then I saw the familiar curly haired ginger, with eyes bluer than the sky, yet darker than the night. I slowly stood up, taking my chance to run up to him; not wanting to get hit again. "Ker-- holy shit." Josh gasped out after noticing my bruised face and busted lip. His demeanour immediately changed into anger, death-staring Antonio.

"Who are you?" The redhead boy questioned in a challenging tone. "I-- I'm her father." He responded, disgust immediately rushing through me. "Ha, yea right." Josh joked, though immediately went back to being serious after realising Antonio wasn't kidding. "Did he do that to you?" The blue eyed boy whispered quizzically to me, to which I replied with a subtle nod.

Josh then grabbed my arm, leading us away; ignoring the calls of my so-called father. After a few minutes of walking, silence filling the air-- the only sounds being heard being the rustling of the bushes and tree branches that were caused by the whistling wind-- we arrived at Josh's house.

He quietly opened his back door, not wanting to wake up his parents, seeing as it was midnight. He then led us both to his bathroom. "Sit." Josh simply said, while I sat on the toilet seat; patiently waiting for him to get the supplies, me playing with my fingers.

I was actually quite used to this process, seeing as I got into a lot of fights while we were in school. He would pull me out of the fight, nag me on why it is bad to get into fights; after school he would bring me over here to treat whatever injuries I ended up getting. Josh thought that after finishing high school, he wouldn't have to do this anymore; guess he was wrong.

The redhead boy got a cloth, wetting it with the sink water. He didn't ask me about my so-called father, he didn't pressure me into telling him what happened; he just let the peaceful quietude fall upon us; not breaking it with a motherly lecture, or an annoying interrogation; he just simply applied the damp cloth to my bloody lip, caring for me like he always did.

105 words

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I never really been cared for other than-- well-- my mom. But I found this one girl (the already mentioned best friend) and she took care of me as if I was family. We've been at this friendship journey for four and a half years, and it has been the best of my life.