What you don't know, Wont kill you. I think...

What you don't know, Wont kill you. I think...[12]

Chapter 12

I looked at him in disbelief. This is what he decided to talk to me about? Why now?

“Why are you so interested in my father all the time? I already told you he was an abusing as* hole and didn’t deserve my love or sympathy. I kicked him out because my mother couldn’t. Why do you have to keep bringing him up?”

I breathed in, trying to control my sudden anger. Why was I getting angry? He could be curious, that’s fine. But maybe my anger stemmed from me not knowing so much about my father. He had lived with me for a good portion of my life before he turned abusive but yet I barely knew him. It pained me to even think about him, let alone talk about him. I can’t blame Sebastian for that, right?

Lately it seemed that I didn’t understand many things. It was really beginning to bother me and there is nothing I can do about it. He is just so secretive, I’m afraid to ask too much in case he gets mad at me or something. I shouldn’t be afraid of him. No matter how much I told myself that I had no reason to fear him, I couldn’t help but suppress a violent shiver from rolling down my spine.

“I’m sorry Nia, would you rather not answer that question? It’s okay, I understand…” He looked so dejected; I couldn’t stand it a second longer. Without thinking, my hand reached up to lightly stroke his jaw line. He probably thought that he crossed a line, which I had thought he had done a moment ago myself.

I gave up. “What do you want to know about him? What else is there to know?” I sighed, refusing to meet his powerful gaze.

“When did you send him away?”

I looked at him. Why would this interest him?

“I’m not exactly sure, but about a year ago or something.”

“Where did he go?”

“My Aunt Marie’s house. I only know this because he made my mom get her address for him before he finally left.” I winced with the memory. That day both my mother and I had received the worst beatings of our lives. My hand fell to my sleeve, where I tugged at the cloth covering my brutal scar. I got this scar that very same day.

“What are you thinking?” I heard him whisper, but my mind was somewhere else…

***

“Jane! Get your as- in here!”

I could hear my father yelling from downstairs. I rolled out of bed and trudged down to see him tightly clutching my mother’s hair, his nose dangerously close to hers.

“You want me to leave do you?” He growled. Oh crap, he had heard me talking to mom last night when I told her my plan to kick him out…

“N-no I want you to stay with me and Nia. I love you, we love you.” She noticed me standing there then, her eyes widening in desperation.

Then it started. His hand rose over his head and quickly shot down to my mothers face, her head whipping to the side from the contact. She looked at him, whimpering, a tear cascaded down her cheek.

“Gabe! Stop!” I yelled at him, trying to pry his grip off my mother’s hair. I smelled it, the alcohol. He is drunk. Very drunk.

“Excuse me? Don’t you DARE talk back to ME!” He bellowed in my face, causing me to stumble back unsure.

He threw my mother to the ground, a loud crack resounded throughout the room. This time, he advanced on me.

As long as my mother was left alone, he could do whatever he wanted to me. Well, not anything.