If You Knew Me (#Wattys2015)

Chapter 19- If Only I'd Been Home

Quince's POV

I slowly walked to the front door and took my keys out of my jacket pocket.
Damn it. Why am I making this so hard?

I put the key in the lock and slowly opened the door. I walked inside and the house was dark. No lights could be seen and it was very quiet.

I walked up to my room slowly so as not to disturb anyone if anyone was even here. But when I opened my door a horrible stench emerged. I gagged and held a hand over my mouth. I walked in slowly. Photo albums of the family were scattered across the room.

-*-

I could see pictures if me and my mom on my birthdays and my dad when he finally bought the car he'd always wanted. He wasn't always a drunk. He was a good dad. An over protective one at that.

The only reason he was drunk that night was because he got laid off. Again. The money wasn't coming in like it was before. We had to sell our TV, our expensive jewelry and my sister's plush collectibles (they were surprisingly expensive).  We barely got by but we did. We always ate and stuff but we didn't have nice things like the other kids.

I didn't mind cause I didn't care what the others thought. They were all egotistical 7 year olds.

I walked through the upturned room and walked toward the ajar bathroom door. Light shone from the open door. I took the handle of the door in my hand and slowly pulled it.

My eyes met a horrible sight. Blood was spilled all over the bathroom tiles and a chair was set behind the door. I pushed the chair away with my foot and walked into the bathroom. I looked around and all that my eyes could see was my father hanging from the bathtub curtain pole. His wrists were slit vertically and dried blood rested over the wound.

I moved my hand to mouth before a scream could escape.  My eyes widened and I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

My dad was hanging from the bathtub curtain rod. His lifeless figure swung back and forth, dry blood resting on his arms. I covered my mouth to hold in my screams of horror.

I looked down at my feet which were now soaked in blood. The bathroom floor stained red, not a sign of the tiles that were once there. His lips blue and his eyes empty.

His hair was matted down from sweat and a broken beer glass could be seen right beneath his foot. I stepped back and my foot made a crumple noise. I turned my head and bent down to pick up the piece of paper. Half of it was soaked with blood but the blue pen was legible.

My dearest Quince, I want to apologize for everything. I was a horrible father and a jerk. I did unholy things to you and I am the scummiest of scum. I can never earn your trust back and living on a world where my own daughter hates me is a world I'd rather not live in. Goodbye.

That was all that was written. That was when I let it out. I fell to my knees and screamed my lungs out. I screamed and shrieked until my lungs burned. I couldn't stop screaming.

I pulled at my hair until clumps fell onto the floor. My rage didn't subside nor did my lungs ever give out. I just kept screaming and I threw my head to the floor. I laid there and stared empty at the celing. The letter was now resting next to me. I stopped screaming and next to me I could feel the coldness of a knife. I picked it up and took it to my face. I stood up and limpy walked over to my father.

Then I lost control.