The One That Got Away.

Chapter 6: Alcohol

Parents. Parents are weird. There are a lot of different types of parents. Those who care deeply for their children, those who could care less, and those who abuse their children.

When my father and I moved, he started drinking more and more. Wasting all of our money on beer. 7, 6 packs a day. My dad was always drunk. He didn't have a job, so he became a drug dealer. He was a mess. But he was almost never home, so I didn't have to deal with him a whole lot. But the days that he was home, were hell. 

He would always yell at me for pointless things. We got into arguments nearly everyday. They always ended with him saying he hated me and that he wished I was never born. I never got mad at him though. Because I knew it was't his fault, he was too drunk to know what was going on.

But each day that passed, the more aggressive my dad got. His yells got louder and his words got worse, and then he started to get physical.

I had just gotten home from my new highschool. (Freshman year) and I saw my dad sitting on his chair, drinking what looked like his 8th beer. There were beer cans and bottles everywhere. 

"Seriously dad, you're day drinking again? I'm having friends over and I don't want you acting stupid." I said.

"HEY! YOU DO NOT TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!" Yelled my dad.

"Oh my God, shut the hell up dad. You're just drunk. You know this is what happens when you drink all the time." I started walking upstairs.

"YOU GET BACK DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW YOUNG LADY" 

I rolled my eyes, sighed, and then walked back down to where my dad was.

"What?!" I said in an annoyed voice.

"I DRINK WHENEVER I WANT. AND IF YOUR FRIENDS HAVE A PROBLEM WITH IT THEN THEY CAN LEAVE. I DON'T APPRECIATE YOU ACTING LIKE YOUR'RE AN ADULT WHEN YOU'RE JUST A STUPID LITTLE KID!"

"Are you finished? I have homework to do. And for the record, I'm probably more adult than you will ever be." I turned around and started walking away.

My dad jumped out of his chair and grabbed my arm, pushing me against the wall.

"Let go of me!" I yelled, trying to squirm out of his hold.

"I AM YOUR FATHER AND YOU BEST TREAT ME WITH SOME RESPECT. OR ELSE YOU'LL REGRET IT." Yelled my father getting closer to my face.

"You know dad, you say that every single day. That I'm a worthless child and that I was never loved. Well look at you. You're drinking everyday. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure you can't even remember 10 minutes ago. You threw your life down the drain the second mom died-"

"YOU DO NOT EVER TALK ABOUT YOUR MOTHER." yelled my dad.

He let go of his hold, and just as I tried walking away, he back handed my cheek and I fell to the floor.

"Ow! What the hell! You are getting worse and worse everyday," I said while getting back up. "You're a coward. Too scared to face reality. I LOST HER TOO. SHE WAS MY MOTHER FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. BUT YOU DON'T SEE ME DRINKING EVERYDAY AND THROWING MY LIFE AWAY, DO YOU?!"

My dad's eyed started to water. He gritted his teeth, and anger started filling up in his eyes. He back handed my other cheek. And I fell to the floor once again.

I looked at him with tears running down my face. 

"Who are you?!" I said while getting back up once again.

"Avery, I-"

"Go away dad!" I yelled while running up the stairs and into my room. 

I looked at myself in the mirror. There was a bruise on one of my cheeks, and a scratch on the other.

Later that day my dad came up to my room and apologized to me. I forgave him, considering it wasn't the real him who did that.

And soon enough, that became our new daily routine. Get into a huge argument, he would hit me in the face, apologize hours later and I would forgive him.

It soon got so bad that makeup couldn't cover them anymore. 

Girls started making fun of my face, and saying that I was a prostitute that had behavioral issues. It went on for years. I didn't know how much longer I could take it.

One day when I came home, the first thing I did was find my dad.

"Daddy..." I said trying to hold in cries.

"What do you want." He said in an angry tone.

"Look at me!" I yelled.

Moments later, his eyes slowly met mine. 

"Look at my face. There are bruises everywhere. People in school keep making fun of me for it, and now people are starting to ask questions. I keep coming up with stupid excuses but nobody's buying them. Daddy this needs to stop."

"What, needs to stop?" asked my dad sounding annoyed.

"The abuse! I can't handle it anymore. I know you're in there daddy. Somewhere under all of that beer is someone who would never dare to hurt his little girl. Where are you?"

My dad didn't say anything. He just looked at me and then at the floor.

I walked up to him and hugged him tight, scared that he would try to hurt me. But moments later, he hugged me back.

"Sweetie I'm so sorry" Said my dad.

The second he said that I started crying.

"We're going back," said my dad.

I got confused.

"What? Going back where?" I asked.

He pulled away from the hug, looked at me, and then smiled.

"Home."