Atomic Love [2]

Chapter 26 - Drunk Dad

TW: Swearing, slight mention of alcohol and drugs, mentions of child abuse

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Chapter 26

January 4, Monday

Kathrin's POV

I quietly creaked open the front door of the house I used to live in, hoping that my 'dad' wasn't home. I wanted to pick up some books since I finished all of the ones I had-- but the moment the strong scent of whiskey filled my nose, I realised that that son of a bitch was unfortunately here.

Looking over to the living room, I could see the man-- eyes half closed, skin pale, bags under his eyes-- sprawled onto the couch, holding onto a glass bottle of alcohol that was almost finished.

He seemed so miserable and tired-- probably haven't showered in weeks. Well drunk him could never throw a good punch, so I didn't have to worry about that.

I slowly walked past the living room, about to go up the stairs; but I obviously couldn't go past him without making some sort of remark (I do not know why, self-control just does not exist for me).

"Why so glum? Isn't alcohol meant to do the opposite?" I sarcastically asked, leading to a mad expression to mask his face. The man aggressively stood up, leading to me taking a cautious step back.

"Woah, easy there, tiger.. I'll be eighteen this year-- an adult-- which means I won't have to go to a foster home if I report you, and you'll go to jail." I ranted. I quickly went upstairs to get my stuff, then coming down again to leave; though obviously father had to stop me.

"Y'know-- your.. your mother died a year ago today." He slurred out, staring at an empty wall as he was sat back onto the sofa. "Yep, I know." My hand fell from the door handle. I know I could've just left, but I kinda wanted to know where the conversation would go.

"How do you just... not care?" He asked, finally turning his head to look at me. "What do you mean?" I quizzed, feeling a slight clench in my heart.

"You just sound so casual-- she was your mother."

Well, of course I cared. My whole world crashed down when she died-- she was the one parent that I knew did love me. She was the one reason I had to live in this house, even with the mean words and the constant judging and yelling, she was the one reason that this place was even 'home'. Her dying was like what's left of my innocence and childhood being ripped away so easily and carelessly.

And of course, I could go through the whole thing of understanding how I feel, then trying to better myself so I'll never have to feel that way ever again.

But then it's just so much easier to just ignore them. Just bury them so deep down that it seems like they don't exist anymore. Not having to feel that type of pain as I'm just drowned in all the alcohol and drugs and... absolute numbness.

And sure, I could just tell him all of this shit as if he would care.

But then other times, it's just easier to respond with, "Yeah, I know. But I got over it."

"How do you just... get over it?" The man questioned, taking another swig of his drink. I could feel myself chuckle. "Why, you ain't over it yet?"

I knew what I said was mean-- and I knew I shouldn't be laughing at him; a grieving man. But I just couldn't help but feel somewhat... powerful; with him in such a weak spot and me with the higher ground.

Call me f*]ucked up, and call me crazy-- but I can't help what I'm feeling.

"I-- no. I mean, she was the love of my life." 'Dad' replied; and again, I started laughing. "Love of your life my ass-- all you two did was fight. Tell me honestly, if I didn't defend her all those nights you two were arguing, would you have genuinely not hit her?" I argued, feeling this anger stirring within me.

It was silent between us for a moment.

"I-- I have always struggled with showing my love to people," He started saying again, these makeshift tears filling his eyes; hah, guess all of the 'don't cry' lectures were just hypocritical.

"I don't know how to love. My father was like... like how I was to you when you were growing up. And my mother did nothing about it. I don't know if what I had with Olivia was truly love, but life felt... warm around her. It felt nice, and I never wanted it to stop.

"When I felt violent tendencies again, I had to choose whether to protect her by leaving, or stay. And I chose to stay-- because I'm selfish, and a coward. I was scared to be alone, because she was the only one to ever want me."

I could feel genuine guilt drip from his voice. And if I dug deep into my dark and twisted soul, I could actually find a bit of pity for him. How he had everything-- a blooming business, with a wife and child-- and ultimately almost lost everything.

I sighed, looking down at my feet. Even as much as I hated him, I still couldn't stand seeing the man I thought was so strong seem so... weak; see him hit rock bottom.

"And, truthfully, I wasn't there when she gave birth to you. But when I first laid my eyes on you, I thought you looked just like-- just like me. I love you, Kathrin, you are-- are my daughter; and you were my little princess.

"But every time I see you, it's like looking at a reflection of me; and I just can't help feeling this burning hatred inside of me. You-- you did nothing wrong; it's just the fact that I feel a part of me inside of you made me angry. I didn't want you to turn out like me."

Part of me wanted to feel sad.

I was his little princess; not anymore.

I wanted to curl up into a ball at the corner of my little dark room and cry my eyes out. My dad finally said he loved me, but it only took him almost finishing a whole bottle of whiskey.

But then the other part-- the bigger part-- was only... mad. I could feel my blood boil at his words. I wanted to be nothing like this man. Nothing. I knew he was drunk-- he'd forget all of this right after he falls asleep-- but the fact that I could really be compared to him, it made me mad. I mean, he said it himself: he's selfish, he's a coward, and he is abusive.

But there was a small part of me that just can't help believing him. What if I am just like him? What if really I'm just a copy of him? Do these people around me really love me? Or is it just one-sided?

I wanted to yell at him, tell him that I'm nothing like him! But I just couldn't do it. Because this was the man that fell in love with my sweet sweet mother; who could be tough at times, but was always there.

And even if I hate him with a burning passion, he is who made me who I am. He allowed me to not let others affect me, he taught me to always stand up for myself, to not be-- be weak, so there is a part of me that has to thank him for that.

But instead of saying any of these things, all I managed to do was nod as I finally escaped that hellhole of a house; the place that was supposed to be home but turned out to just be a hall of nightmares.

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1304 words (edited)