𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐗

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𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒...a challenging moment to say the least. My dad unexpectedly showed up at my house, claiming he wanted to have a conversation. However, deep down, I knew exactly what his version of a conversation entailed. It was nothing but a toxic cocktail of hatred and destruction. We reluctantly took our seats across from each other, and to my surprise, he didn't even seem the least bit uncomfortable.

The reason for that? Well, it all boiled down to one simple fact: he was an egotistical man, completely consumed by his own self-importance. It was as if the world revolved around him, and any attempt at genuine connection or understanding was futile. The weight of his ego hung heavily in the air, suffocating any chance of a meaningful exchange. In that moment, I realized that sometimes, silence can speak louder than words.

"Your a fucking bitch for leaving me in jail. I just got out today," I sat there in silence, my lips sealed tightly, cautious of every word that could potentially trigger his explosive anger. It was a terrifying experience, to say the least. Yes, he was my father, but the love and care that should have been there were replaced by a cold and callous demeanor. He will always be like this. As he shifted in his seat, the weight of our troubled past flooded my mind, reminding me of the countless times I had been on the receiving end of his wrath. "Not so tough now are you?"

In that moment, all I could do was brace myself for what was to come. And then, he scoffed at the sheer terror in my eyes, dismissing it as if it were a mere inconvenience. It was a painful reminder of his egotistical nature, his inability to see beyond his own self-interest. The room felt heavy with tension, as I realized that I had to navigate this treacherous conversation with utmost care. "I don't have time today to deal with this dad, I have things to do."

"More important then your own father?" The anger unleashed, like a storm ready to unleash its fury. And in that moment, I retreated into myself, knowing all too well the predictable script that would unfold. The room fell silent as I chose to remain quiet, bracing myself for what was to come. Suddenly, his fist came crashing down on the table, the loud thud startling me to my core. "You'll never be my daughter."

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, a cruel reminder of the power he held over me. I fought back the tears welling up in my eyes, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing my vulnerability. It was a painful realization that although he may be my father, he lacked the qualities of a true dad, someone who would love and protect me unconditionally

"And you'll never be my father." I uttered those words heartlessly, the weight of indifference heavy on my shoulders. With each glimmer of hope I dared to nurture, reminding myself that one day he might change, he relentlessly crushed it. Without fail. He has never once shown the tenderness and care that a true father should possess. Even as an adult, I find myself grieving over the loss of a genuine childhood. The absence of loving parents, one of those golden retriever dogs by my side, and a home filled with warmth and kindness. It's a profound sadness that lingers within me, a longing for a reality that was never mine to embrace.

As cliche as it sounds, I've dreamed about it since I was a kid.

"That is why me and your mother drink, it's all because of you."He hurled back at me a barrage of even more venomous words, causing my anger to flare up. But in that moment, I reminded myself that I was no longer that frightened and helpless child, wondering why I was subjected to such harsh verbal attacks over a simple accident. I am an adult now, with the power to control my own life. He can no longer wield his control over me. The pain of his words cuts deep, but I refuse to let it define me. I stand firm, determined to break free from his toxic influence.

"Get the fuck out of my house." In a hushed yet resolute tone, I spoke my words, carrying a weight of sternness that reverberated through the air. As his eyes met mine, I could see disbelief and shock reflected in his gaze. For far too long, he had assumed he held absolute power over me, as if he could control my every move and dictate the course of my life. But on that fateful day, I knew it was my chance to shatter that illusion, to show him that I was no longer under his spell.

With unwavering determination, I stood my ground, refusing to succumb to his manipulative tactics. I had come to realize that I was my own person, with the strength and resilience to break free from his grasp. As he stood there, seemingly unmoved by my words, I reached out and grabbed a nearby glass. With a swift, deliberate motion, I let it slip from my grasp, watching as it shattered upon impact with the table.

The sound of breaking glass echoed in the room, symbolizing the end of his control over me. It was a powerful statement, a visual representation of my newfound independence and defiance. From that moment forward, he could no longer hold sway over my thoughts, my actions, or my emotions. I had reclaimed my power, and I was ready to forge my own path, free from the chains of his influence.

"You're to never step another foot near me, and if you do, I'll file a restraining order." He slapped me across the face, a painful sting that left me reeling. But in that moment, something inside me ignited. With a surge of adrenaline, I mustered all my strength and retaliated, landing a punch that sent him sprawling to the ground. It was a bittersweet victory, a mix of triumph and sorrow. As he laid there, disoriented and defeated, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of amusement at the sight. He always thought it was acceptable to hit me. I hope now he realizes how much strength I have in me and will leave me alone. "You're nothing but I fucking drunk." With that said he exited my house.

That day was the day I felt genuine justice.

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 -ᴊ.ɢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ-Where stories live. Discover now