Kris' World

Chapter 2

Kris was released from the hospital three days later. At this moment, she was packing her things into an old suitcase, because she and her sister were to stay in a foster home temporarily until it was figured out what to do.
           Melanie and her belongings were already at the foster home, so the small room was nearly empty. Kris pondered the history that led up to recent events in her life, as she folded the little clothes she had and set them nicely in the suitcase.
            Kris remembers her dad well. When she was young, their family was happy. It was normal. They'd watch movies together, went for picnics, had fun on mini vacations every summer. When she was younger, life was simple. That is until her dad lost his job.
             It was then that he started to change. He blamed them for his mistakes; said that they were slowing him down. He began to drown his misery in alcohol and drugs. He changed even more, started to become physically abusive. It got worse and worse until the police arrived at their door step one morning to take him away.
             Kris had later figured that it was her mom that made the call in secret. But, she didn't care how the police found out; she was just glad that he was gone and they were safe.
             Soon, all of Kris' clothes were in the suitcase, so she went to the windowsill to grab the rest of her belongings. One by one, she put in a few books, a flashlight, and a watch she received for her birthday a few years back. But, when Kris came face to face with her treasured pocket knife, a tear rolled down her face.
             That pocket knife made her feel safe. She always knew it would protect her and her family. She always had it on her, even when she slept. The only time she didn't have it nearby was when she needed it the most.
              She asked herself the burning internal questions; why didn't she run to go get it? Why didn't she lock the door? Why was she so stupid? So scared? So weak? Her eyes started to water, so she dropped the knife and her thoughts into the suitcase and zipped them up, only to be opened again.
              Kris shoved the suitcase to the side and lifted up the creaky floorboard. There, she kept things that needed to be kept hidden. She recovered her savings, about thirty-five dollars, and pit it into her pocket.
              She then picked up the old photograph of her happy, normal family. It was one of the only pictures left of her family when her dad was still around. Most of the other pictures were destroyed. Kris' mom couldn't bare to look at her husband, it was all too painful. Even the pictures of her daughters when they were younger were thrown out because the smiles-they were fake. Their misery being hidden behind the innocent eyes and smiling teeth.
              But, Kris had kept this picture in secret to remind herself how normal her life used to be. The picture reminded her of who her dad really was, instead of who he was pretending to be. Kris, like every little girl, never wanted to see her father in any light other than her hero. Even his his darkest times, she still had hope for him. Kris never wanted to accept her father as a bad man, but now she couldn't pretend anymore after what he had done. Her dad was no longer around, he was killed a long time ago by drug and alcohol abuse, hate, and anger. Kris didn't want to accept the fact that her dad had died, that the man who took his place had already buried her dad within himself many years ago. She would never forgive him, not anymore. That man was biologically her father, but merely that-her father. He would never be her dad again.
              Kris ripped the picture to shreds and violently thrust it against the floor in loud tears. Drying her eyes, she grabbed her bag and a picture of her mother off the bed stand leaving the room and her shredded, happy past laying on the bare floor behind her, never once  looking back.