Is It Not

Chapter 2

*A week later*

Days were long and cold, merging into nights of dark and dampness. The kind that feel as if it sucked any possible glow of happiness out of you.

I like to think I'm immune to these kind of nights as much as the next person.

I thought I was invincible, the shadows of darkening thoughts unable to reach me. How wrong I could be.

There came a time I long for an escape from my mind. Hours upon hours staring at the achromatic walls waiting for something. I don't know what that something is, but I need it now.

I like to believe everything happens for a reason. I can't help but think how peculiar time is.

You blink, time passes. You lay down and try to drown out your nightmares, time passes. Your dad gets way passed savable and blames you for this mess he's in, time passes, even though it feels like hours.

A perplexing concept time is. Always unfair, never sparing anyone any remorse.

Although I must say time is reliable.
7 o'clock does come everyday no matter how long or short the day may seem.

The front door slams shut followed by the sound of a chair being knocked over, which successfully pulls me out of my thoughts.

He's home.

Sighing, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stand up. Locking the door won't help much. Hopefully he goes right to bed.

I hear the banging of the microwave and him mutter a loud curse as he puts the dish of food I made for him in it.

The hum of it resounds all the way to my room, and I hear him open the fridge. It's then followed by the slamming of the fridge leaving me to assume that he ran out of beer again.

My next breath catches in my throat as I hear the loud thumps of his boots as he clambers up the stairs.

No.No. No. No. No

"Charlie!" He bellows, his footsteps getting closer. He only ever calls me that when he's drunk.

My door flings open, and he comes stumbling in.

"Where is it?" He demands.

"I don't know, what are you looking for?" I clench my fists to keep my voice steady.

"You know fair well where it is," his tone is cold, sharp, and way passed mad. He's gritting his teeth so hard each breath and word hisses past his teeth.

"Where did you put it?"

"I didn't touch it," I reply.

"You know if you weren't so selfish all the time things would run smoother," he slurs.

You know if you were a normal parent we wouldn't have this problem.

"I honestly didn't touch anything, you must've run out," I persuade.

"Well why don't you get off your butt, stop being so lazy, and finally do something useful for once," he states.

Right because I don't cook, clean, or keep this house functioning. Right I forgot.

My head glances to my clock on the wall. 10:20pm.