A/N ********IMPORTANT******* This chapter is violently graphic so if you want to not read it stop at the ******************************************* and restart when you see it again. THANKS!
CHAPTER: 6
Part 3
It's been a couple of months since the chair fight that mommy and daddy had. Mommy and I moved out. we live with grammy and grampy. Lilly and Landon, my aunt and uncle live here too. But not Leena and Fredrik; they still live in America.
Everything is going pretty well I guess. We live in a huge house. I share a room alone with Mommy.
We gave Scooby away though and that made me cry a lot, but I guess as long as he's happy that is all that matters. Mommy taught me that! She's so smart!
The only two things I don't really like is the nights that mommy goes to the hospital for school. She got a job at a restaurant because she needs money while she's going to school to be a nurse. Well, that's what Lilly told me. I am so proud of mommy, being a nurse! But I still wish she didn't need to go to the hospital for school at night because then I can't sleep beside her. Her pajamas keep me company though, but some nights I wait up and watch the window until I see her car drive in. It's always really late when she comes home, around three O'clock in the morning.
Also I don't like the weekends. Because I have to spend them with daddy at his house. And not-so-lucky-for-me today is the day I go there.
I don't tell mommy because I want her to be able to spend time with her boyfriend too, she seems happy with him and he's really nice. Also when I asked her why she needs me to go on the weekends she told me that it was because she wants me to grow up with a dad and not growing up to hate and blame her for keeping me away from him. I guess it makes sense and so I don't tell her how much I hate going there.
I walk into his house hesitantly clutching onto the straps of my usual backpack so tightly my knuckles feel sore. I see him smile at me, but it never reaches his eyes. He calls for me and holds out his arms. I plaster on a smile, force out a giggle, and run into pappies' awaiting arms. He squeezes me tight and twirls around before placing me down again. I shrug off my bag and he immediately takes it from me.
He unzips it in a haste, all traces of fake love gone. He empties it out and I stare at him blankly knowing exactly what it is he's looking for. He goes onto his knees so we are on the same level and gazes at me intently.
“Where is your wallet Roshan.” He says softly, the same weary smile creeping onto his face.
“I didn't bring it because I knew you'd take it.” I say curious on what his reaction would be.
His face twists into a snarl and his hand twitches, but I know he'd never actually hurt me physically. He knows mommy would end him if he dared lay a hand on me. He's just trying to scare me. I straighten my spine, square my shoulders ,and tilt up my chin like I've watched mommy do so many times before. I slip on my mask of bravery, one I've been told looks to old and serious for a six year old.
“Excuse me? Why the fuck would you do that? I'm your Dad. Doesn't that mean anything to you?” He hisses. I inwardly flinch at his snake like voice and before I let myself cower away I give it one last push of courage and smile at him menacingly. He may be my daddy and I may love him. But he terrifies me. I can't let it show though because mommy wouldn't want me to. I need him to understand that I wont be pushed around. I take a step closer to him, trying to make him feel the way he makes me feel. Releasing all the terror I can onto him before I lose this chance to do so.
I smirk at him the same way he does to mommy and reach out to place my palm against his cheek gently. I let out a giggle that to my surprise sounded nothing short of strong but innocent. I watch as his face turns red and he clenches his jaw so tight I see a vein tick. I can almost hear the grinding of his teeth and I'm sure he can hear my heart pounding. The temperature of his skin heats under my touch and the tension grows until I'm suffocated and can't take it anymore.
