What I Would Give

My World Is Changing

All I could do was stare at the clean shaved, familiar man. Only in a short moment I noticed the very thing Josh did. It was my father who sat on the steps at the entrance of the building.  His face was deceivingly innocent, but we knew better. I could see the haze of hostility around Josh. His voice was inaudible, but his body language said plenty. Josh stood defensively, ordered my father to leave. No one moved for a second, until my father sighed. He gave a polite smile (fake), and walked away. Just as my father walked away he stared into my eyes, and winked casually.

I wanted to get out of the car, and show him what he made me do. I became so afraid he would come back and hurt me or josh, I took defense classes. No matter how hard I tried to forget my father, he always worked his way back into our lives.

Josh watched my disgusted face, and tried to ease my bubbling  hatred. The festering hate towards that devil resurfaced in my mind. He was nothing less than the reason I can't be touched by someone without going into combat mode.  I hated him. I hate him.

Josh stood in front of the car for a bit, and said bitter words under his breathe. Then he walked over towards the car and opened my door. I got out and embraced him. He didn't wrap him arms around me; he just stood there, tranced. Finally, Josh snapped out of it and gently put his arms around me. He squeezed me tightly, and kissed me on the forehead.
"Natalie, right now you're my world, and I won't anyone take you away from me. Especially that lame excuse for life form. You know that right?" He spoke softly. I could only smile and nod, I couldn't tell him that I could handle myself or that I grew up. If being his little sister made him happy, that was okay with me.
He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and we walked  into the apartment. Josh let go and locked himself into his room. I moved towards my room as well, I pulled out my drawer and looked at the useless restraining order. If your old poker buddies with the responding officers, I guess anything is possible. I wanted to burn the senseless paper, but I knew it wouldn't help anything. Behind the restraining order was a picture of my mother, Josh, and I. We were all so happy, it made me wonder where it all went wrong.
It was repulsive to think about how my life was shaped by the man I hated the most. I learned to fight, just to defend myself from him. I learned how to stitch up cuts at a young age, so I could put myself back together every time he tore me down. I experienced how to testify against someone in court. I learned how to curb anxiety attacks that left me hospitalized. But most importantly I learned is anyone, corrupt or "upright" valued personal feelings over justice.
Then I remembered, it was never one thing, it was always something over time that we became numb to.I remembered my father's sanity slip everyday on the force. Every night he came home depressed and swallowed his problems with a bottle, and hoped that each gulp made it easier. It didn't. He reached the point where he didn't want help, he just wanted to feel numb. Some nights he would go ballistic, he flipped chairs, shattered the glass table, and put holes in the wall.
        My father trudged through the hallway and spewed bitterness. I was walking towards my mothers room when he pushed me out of the way.My shoulder landed on the broken glass; it left an x-shaped scar on the top of my shoulder.

But it was my mother who had it the worst. Her shorts and t-shirts were traded for scarves, jeans, and long sleeve shirts. She wore bruises on a regular basis, but she never complained, she only smiled despite how he treated her.

She would sometimes send Josh and I to stay late at a friends house just to avoid his drunken rampages. We'd show back up at around 5:00 in the morning, and everything was scattered. Broken beer bottles, smashed photos, knocked over lamps, and anything else that wasn't bolted to the ground or the ceiling. Everyday felt like a dream, a nightmare.

A knock on my door interrupted my resentful memories. I whipped around, and opened my door. Josh stood at my doorway, silent, but a look of concern flushed his face.