Forgive and Forget

Chapter Two

I suppose it wouldn't hurt to start at the way way WAY beginning. Right? I was born into a very happy family. We did the usual family things together and had fun. When I was about eleven year old is when things started to get unusual. I noticed my dad had started drinking. Don't get me wrong, he had drank before with his friends or on special occasions, but not like this. This was heavy, trying-to-forget-everything-wrong kind of drinking.

He would end up drunk most of the time, but he never did anything. That was until he started to go out to drink. I was thirteen then, he wasn't home until 4 am sometimes, and after a while I guess I just got used to the fact that he wasn't going to tell me goodnight anymore. I remember the first night he went out and came back super late. I was having trouble sleeping that night, and I heard the front door slam.

I crept towards the stairs, where I had a view of the front hall and a little bit of the living room. My dad was standing with his back towards the rest of the house, and he didn't see my mum walk up behind him and stand there with her arms folded. She looked really tired, and I felt bad for her. She had placed a hand on his shoulder, and said his name. "Dale? Why did you go out? Why did-". I didn't know what to expect to happen after that, but what did happen, I never would have guessed.

My dad turned around and started walking towards her. His eyes were hidden behind a chunk of hair that was in his face. Mum started backing up and up and up. They were now in the living room, and the only view I had was of my dad's back. His arm raised, and came down fast and hard. I heard his hand meet flesh and the surprised scream of my mum. I guess I made a noise, somewhat of a whimper, and both of my parents turned to look at me.

My mum's face was tear-stained and still had her hand on her face. She looked so sad and it pained me to see her hurt. I looked at my dad and gave him a glare that could've put someone six feet under and ran back up to my room. The next morning I woke up and only mum was home. I hoped last night was just some horrible nightmare, but when I found my mum in the kitchen preparing breakfast, she had a red hand mark on her cheek.

It was the size of my dad's hand and I flashed back to the scene last night in the living room. He had hit her. He had laid a hand on her, and all while drunk. I wondered if he remembered. I hoped he did, so I could see the regret and remorse on his face.

Fast forward three years and it's still going on. I'm now sixteen, and It's worse than ever. They fight now. Every night it's a screaming battle downstairs. Every night, there go more dishes that will have to be re-purchased. Every night, mum looses because dad dares to touch her in violent ways. Mum has woken up with bruises and cuts. But she shrugs me off when I ask about it. I don't think they think I can hear them, or that I know what's going on. Iv'e asked myself why she doesn't just leave him already.

Iv'e come to the conclusion that she is afraid. Because she loves him. What's the use to throw yourself at love if it isn't even enough to get you through life's darkest days? 'What's the point in a lot of things we do? ' The little voice in the back of my mind counter-argues. I guess it's something that I have to deal with. That is, until I'm 18.

A/N

Hey guys! So I'm not sure how long it will take me to update in the future. I'm starting work soon, and I don't know my hours yet. Until then, I will try my best to update daily. M'kay? Coolio. This wasn't a hard chapter to write, to be honest, but I wasn't really sure where I was going with it in the beginning. Haha. *que the dramatic music* Luckily I made it through though. *wipes away an invisible sweat drop*
Above is a picture of Rachel Genther, just in case you guys couldn't image her.

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~cadence xx