Her Swimmer

Argument

A/N: ABUSE AND SWEARING IN THIS PART

Talia walked home with her head down, her thoughts swirling after the conversation with Officer McAllister. The sun had set, and the evening air was cool against her damp hair. She felt a knot of tension in her chest, a mix of fear and frustration she couldn't shake. The last thing she wanted was for things at home to get worse, but she knew the path they were on was leading to a bad place.

When she finally reached her front door, she hesitated for a moment before pushing it open. The smell of stale beer hit her as she stepped inside, and the sound of the TV blaring from the living room told her her dad was home. She dropped her swim bag by the door and made her way into the room, her heart pounding.

Her dad was slouched on the couch, a half-empty beer bottle in his hand, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the screen. The sight of him like this, so disconnected from everything, filled her with a surge of anger.

"You need to sort your shit out, Dad," Talia said, her voice sharp as she stood in the doorway. "They're thinking of calling social services, and neither of us wants that."

Her dad's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he focused on her. "What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, his voice already tinged with irritation. "Who have you been talking to that's got you thinking they want to call social services?"

Talia clenched her fists, her anger bubbling over. "Nobody. I haven't told anyone anything. It's your actions—your drinking, your shouting. The neighbours hear it all, and it's getting picked up by them. And what about the people you fight with when you go out? Do you think that just goes unnoticed?"

He set the beer bottle down on the coffee table with a loud clink, pushing himself up to his feet unsteadily. "So now it's my fault? I'm the problem?" he spat, his voice rising. "You think I don't know how hard it is? You think I don't notice the way things are?"

"You don't act like it!" Talia shot back, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. "You're always drunk, always yelling. I can't even focus on school, on swimming, because I'm too busy worrying about what you're going to do next!"

Her dad took a step closer, his face twisted in anger. "Don't you dare talk to me like that. You don't know what I've been through. I'm doing the best I can!" his voice booming as he took a threatening step toward her.

Talia scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as she turned on her heel and stormed off toward the stairs. "Fuck you!" she yelled, her voice shaking with a mix of fury and fear. She knew she was crossing a line, but she was too angry, too worried about the threat of being put into care, to hold back.

Her father's footsteps thundered behind her as she raced up the stairs. She barely made it to her room before slamming the door shut, her heart pounding in her chest. But before she could even catch her breath, the door burst open with such force that it cracked against the wall. She gasped, spinning around to face him as he stormed into the room, his face twisted with rage.

"You think you can just slam doors in my house?" he bellowed, pointing at the broken door. "Look what you've done, you ungrateful little brat!"

Talia backed up against the wall, her fear rising, but she refused to let it show. "I didn't break the door—you did!" she snapped back. "Just like you've broken everything else in this house!"

His eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "You've been nothing but trouble since the day you were born. You're just like your mother. And it's your fault she's dead."

Talia's breath caught in her throat, and a cold wave of shock and pain washed over her. But then, anger surged up again, hot and fierce. "Don't you dare speak about her!" she screamed, tears burning in her eyes. "You don't deserve to even think about her, and don't you dare put that on me! Her death was your fault!"

The words barely left her mouth before he slapped her across the face with a resounding crack. Talia stumbled, falling to the floor, her cheek stinging from the blow. She looked up at him, tears spilling down her face, her vision blurring with pain and disbelief.

"She was my wife, you stupid bitch!" he snarled, his chest heaving with rage.

Talia's whole body trembled as she clutched her cheek, but she refused to back down. "She was my mum," she choked out, her voice filled with hurt and defiance. "And you killed her."

She pushed herself up slightly, her eyes blazing with defiance as she looked up at him.

"You killed her," she spat, repeating the words, seething with all the hurt and rage she'd kept bottled up for years.

Her father's eyes went dark with fury, and before she could react, he kicked her in the stomach with brutal force. The air was knocked out of her lungs, and she crumpled back to the floor, gasping for breath.

"If I killed her," he snarled, towering over her, "then why the hell ain't I in jail for her murder, huh? Answer me that, you dumb brat!"

Talia curled up, clutching her stomach, pain shooting through her body. But even through the agony, she couldn't stop herself. The words tore out of her, fuelled by a desperate need to fight back. "Because you're too much of a coward to admit what you did! You're a drunk, and you've always been a drunk! That's why she's dead!"

That was all it took. Her father's face twisted into a mask of unbridled rage. With a roar, he lost whatever control he had left. He lunged at her, his fists flying. The first blow landed across her ribs, and then another struck her shoulder. Talia tried to curl into a ball, to shield herself, but the hits kept coming—each one more brutal than the last.

"You ungrateful little bitch!" he shouted, his voice almost unrecognizable with rage. "You think you can talk to me like that? You think you know what happened? You don't know anything!"

Talia's world narrowed to the pain and the sound of his voice, vicious and full of hatred. She felt the blows on her back, her arms, her legs—every part of her body that wasn't already screaming in agony. Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to cry out, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

"Shut up!" he screamed down at her, punctuating each word with another punch. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

The pain was overwhelming, but even as he beat her, something inside Talia refused to break. She clung to the thought of her mother, of the love she once knew before everything fell apart. Her mother's face, her gentle voice, was the only thing that kept her going as her father's violence consumed her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stopped. His chest heaved with exertion, his fists bloodied and bruised. He stood over her, panting heavily, staring down at the broken form of his daughter. Talia lay there, barely moving, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her entire body throbbed with pain, and she knew she'd never forget the feel of his fists slamming into her.

As Talia lay on the floor, her body bruised and broken, she could feel her father's eyes on her. The weight of his presence was suffocating, but she refused to open her eyes, hoping against hope that he would just leave.

But he didn't.

Instead, he stepped back, his breath still coming in ragged gasps, his fists shaking with the lingering rage. He looked down at her with disgust, the realization of what he'd done only fuelling his anger further. Without warning, he spat on her, the wet smack of it landing on her cheek, mingling with her tears. Talia flinched, but she was too weak to wipe it away, too broken to defend herself.

"Worthless piece of shit," he growled, his voice thick with contempt. And then, as if to make his point, he drew back his foot and delivered one final, brutal kick to her face.

The world exploded in a burst of white-hot pain, and then everything went dark. Talia's consciousness slipped away, her body going limp as she passed out from the sheer force of the blow.

Her father stood over her for a moment longer, breathing heavily. But there was no more satisfaction in it for him, no relief. Just a gnawing emptiness that he couldn't escape. He sneered down at her unconscious form, shaking his head in disgust, before turning and walking out of the room.

The house was eerily silent as he grabbed his jacket and stumbled out the front door, his thoughts already turning to the bottle he would find at the pub. It was the only thing that ever seemed to dull the rage and the guilt, the only thing that kept him going. So he left, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Talia alone and broken on the floor, the echoes of violence still lingering in the air.