Baby Girl || One Direction

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Edited

As I finished applying my the blush to my pale and sunken in cheeks, I heard my father call me downstairs. I look in the mirror and sigh at the reflection staring back at me. I'm not sure when my pale complexion went from cute to sickly. I shake off the self-deprecating thoughts and I focus on finishing my look by applying some translucent powder and some setting spray to ensure my makeup will stay in place. I look longingly at the store brand foundation that I used to use in the shade toffee. It is a little scary knowing that the foundation I am looking at used to match my skin tone perfectly.

In the past few months with all that has gone on, I have gone out less and forgotten on more than one occasion to take care of myself. I can't take care of myself when I have to take care of him. My father became distraught when my mother died and since then, I have been the only one looking out for him.

His eighteen year old daughter.

My dad's voice broke me out of my thoughts once again as he calls me downstairs for the second time. Before I leave the bathroom, I make sure that my makeup looks good and I pack up the makeup products that were scattered all over the counter. I definitely did not want to give my father a reason to start an argument tonight when he comes home plastered from our holiday party. When I am satisfied with the minimal makeup I applied to my face, I carefully walk down the staircase to meet my dad in the foyer.

"I'm getting ready head out to the party, love," he told me, putting on his trench coat and planting a kiss on my forehead.

"Wait, are we not going together anymore?" I ask him, my face showing signs of confusion.

Every year on New Year's Eve, my family gathers at my Aunt Lisa's restaurant, my mother's sister. It was tradition that my family had done even before my parents and aunts and uncle's started to have children. But when they started having children, it only made the tradition more special as the families were so close.

My father looked back at me and closed his eyes in thought. He opened them again and this is when I noticed water gathering in the corners of them. "I'm not going to Aunt Lisa's dinner, baby."

"What do you mean you're not coming to Aunt Lisa's? We do this every year. It's tradition!" I plead.

At my comment, I could see my father's fist beginning to clench and his body go rigid. I watched as he tried to regain his composure as he took a few deep breaths.

"Its too hard to do anything I used to to with your mother," he revealed, one single tear sliding down his cheek.

My stomach dropped. It completely slipped my mind that this would be our first New Years without her. When she died a few months prior, my father and I learned that the worst time to be grieving was during the holidays. Every tradition and memory you have from those events are tainted. I had almost put it past me that my dad had destroyed Christmas dinner at my grandparents by sneaking liquor from his parents and becoming obliterated before supper.

I hesitated, "Dad.."

"What is it Jenny?" he snapped and stalked so close to me, I could smell the alcohol off his breath. 

My heart swelled. It was not harsh tone of his voice that bothered me, since I know how he gets, especially when alcohol is involved, which he obviously has already started drinking while I got ready upstairs. My heart skipped a beat at the nickname he referred me to. I hadn't heard him call me that since before my mother passed, and even though he didn't say that name in the way I had hoped, I'll take what I can get.

As much as my father's words and actions hurt me, it's times like this I know he does truly love me. He's just sick. He's ill and he just needs help.