My Heart Was Always His.

Seven.

Standing in the queue I waited patiently to be served next, my hood fell just over my eyes so no one could see me. I kept my hands in my pockets and tried to hide myself as best as I could.
This was my monthly trip to the post office; yet I still hated the judgemental and utter disgusted looks I received. If only they really knew the real reason. To them I was probably sending money to a junkie boyfriend or something.

I was called to cashier number 2, a lady of many faces. She was so friendly when I first moved here 2 years ago. It changed so quick when I requested one thing. Now she doesn't even give me the time of day; although knowing what I want she'll still make me say it, still make me speak up because she 'couldn't hear me' so the rest of the shop could hear.

"A £150 postal order wrote out to HMP services please" (Her Majesty's Prison Services)  I didn't bother to look and see her judgemental eyes on me. I just fiddled with my money and slid it across the counter.
She huffed slightly and told me there is a fee on the postal order. Something I already knew. I nodded my head and waited for my request, change and receipt.

I stood to the side and wrote on the back of the postal order his name, prison number and location. I popped it in the envelope, sealed it and wrote the same again on the front. Affixing a stamp I popped the letter into the little box.

I hoped more than anything this was really helping him. Really making a difference. I sighed knowing I probably was never going to see my dad again, or for at least a very long time. 

All the memories come flooding back to me.

-flashback-

"Princess, I'm going to have to go away for a little while." Tears sprung to both of our eyes.

"For how long Daddy?" The hope in my voice must have showed.

"Daddy did a really bad thing princess, something out of pure rage. Something I now have to pay for, something I didn't actually mean to do."

I nodded knowing what he was talking about. He killed my mother's lover.

My mum had always been the party type of females. Always craving the attention of some drunken fool. Always wanting more. Although she had a man who would give his last breath for her at home. She still wanted more. Which she had found.

My dad raised me pretty much on his own, as well as handling a job and being the 'housewife'. My mum was always drunk. Or out. Or both. Almost always both.
I couldn't even tell you what her favourite colour was. I didn't know who she was.
I don't think I ever had a proper meal from her, she would just throw junk food at me and tell me to go away.
Oh. And 'tell your dad you've eaten.'

My dad had a call from the local club one night asking him to pick my mum up because he was worried she wasn't going to make it home with how bladdered she was.
It didn't bother me in the slightest I just didn't care. But my dad did though, he loved her.

He found her at the bar with another man, making out and groping each other wildly.
She didn't even care that he was there seeing the both of them. She told him she was planning on leaving him to be with frank. Her new man. One without a child. One who knew how to be a real Man.
My dad punched him. Again and again and again. He just couldn't stop.
He was seething. The last words he spoke to my mother were 'that man enough for you Annette.'

-end-

I give a shake of my head and blink the tears away, it's been two years since I had seen my dad. He wouldn't let me go visit him in prison. He didn't want me to have to be in that kind of environment.

So I did the next best thing. I sent him any spare money I had left out of my wages each month. I didn't know if he had been excepting them or not. He never replied to my letters.

Still even with all the hurt I wasn't giving up on him. He's my daddy after all; my hero. And the only family I have left.

A tear rolled down my face. I wiped it away I walked out of the post office bumping into someone on the way.

I mumbled a sorry and looked up to see who I had stumbled across.

My eyes widened. Harley.

I tried to escape as quick as possible. But as fate seemed to hate me, he stopped me by taking my wrist and pulling me into him. Sparks began flying between us.