Shattered

Dad's Not Dad

Today's the first day of school and I couldn't be more terrified. I have been distraught since that night with my father. I'm scared of him now. I saw something in his eyes I never wanted to see again. How dare he think my mothers death was my fault! I mean it wasn't, right? I didn't crash into her vehicle myself, she was just on her way to get me...it doesn't matter! God, I miss her.
The bus ride wasn't long to get to hell...err...I mean school. But it feels more like hell to me. I've always been a good student, but when I arrived to my first class, I could barely hold my pencil. Thoughts raced around my brain: I couldn't stop thinking about what my dad said! He was drunk that night, I know he didn't mean it. But for some reason I have to believe he did! The bell interrupted my thoughts and dragged me off to my next class.

"Chrissy!!!" Marina chimed. "I'm so glad we have English together! How have things been hon?"
"Alright I guess. It's been hard though, it's just dad and me now," I sulked. Marina pulled me into her arms. I held her tight, I haven't had a hug like this since the day after the accident-Dad really hasn't been in the 'hugging' mood. "How's your dad?" Marina said sympathetically. "Oh...he's... You know." I mumbled. Marina gave me a puzzled look. "Well, whatever is happening Chris, you gotta tell me. I'm sorry and I'm here for you hon," Marina said, resting her hand on my shoulder. I wasn't ready to tell her what's been going on. I mean how could I? I can't just come out and say "oh yeah hey Marina. My house is a wreck, my dad's hysterical, and I'm apparently the reason my mothers dead!" I ignored her comment and sped off to my next class. God, can't this day be over yet?

The bus screeched to my stop. I snuck through the door and disappeared upstairs. I was so angry! And miserable, and hurt! I can't do this! I collapsed on my bed and exploded. I bawled into my pillow; crying like I never have before. What was I going to do? My mothers gone, and my dad is crazy! School was the only thing I could do to get my mind off things. I didn't want to think of her... or him. I dragged myself downstairs, into our filthy kitchen. Dad was unconscious on the floor, with a bottle of liquor in his hands. This is how I always find him now: drunk, miserable, and filthy. I ran by his side and shook him. "Dad!" I yelled, "wake up!" His eyes fluttered open, met my gaze, then rolled back into his head. I snatched a cup of water of the counter and splashed it onto his face. He jolted awake and stared down at himself. "Dad...we have to get things together. Go throw that bottle away and shower. I'll clean up the kitchen and check the newspapers for job openings. We can do this dad, just you and I," I cooed, helping him to his feet. He nodded, put the bottle of alcohol on the counter, and left. I sighed at the disaster of a kitchen we have. As I looked at it, memories of mom flashed in my mind. I shook the thought away and picked up the broom... This kitchen needs to be clean, we can do this! I know we can....

Three hours later, the kitchen was clean. I patted myself on the back, and went to go find my dad. I snuck through his door and found him laying in the same miserable position. "Dad! What are you doing? Get up! Get dressed! Get showered! C'mon dad, we can't do this unless you commit," I stormed. "Commit to what?" He said, his voice shaking. He was drunk. "Suicide?" "Dad, stop it! That's not funny!" I yelled, feeling a lump forming in my throat. He stood up and buttoned his shirt. "Why do you think we're in this situation anyways? Hmm? It's because your mother isn't here! And who's fault is that?" He fired. He was clearly pointing fingers at me. "If wasn't my fault dad! You know that! It's no ones! She could've gotten in an accident on her way to anywhere! Even the grocery store! So just because she was on her way to get me, it doesn't mean it's my fault!" I shot back. "Then who is to blame?" He said, calming down a bit. "No ones!" I flamed. "NO! It's yours! If you hadn't have made her come pick you up from the park she wouldn't be dead! Your mother is dead Christina! And you're the blame!" He shouted. My chest burned with rage and hatred and pain. It's not my fault, it's not my fault, it's not! "You're drunk!" I yelled, holding back hot tears. "Shut up! My wife would he alive! Alive! If she hadn't given birth to a murderer!" He raged, pulling something from underneath him. I was furious! And heartbroken! How could my own father say this to me? I sat there speechless. He whipped his arm forward and a half empty liquor bottle whizzed past my head and smashed against the wall behind me, sending glass and alcohol in all directions. I screamed and jumped away. I looked up at my father. Terrified tears filled my eyes. I ran out and slammed the door behind me and raced back fi my room. I heard my father yell something after me: "I missed!"