daughter of mine

Chapter 1: Shadows

"Louise get the fucking door would you?!" Dad's gruff voice sounded from the living room. I huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of my face as I rushed about the kitchen trying to get the breakfast on the table as fast I could. My job meant that I went to sleep late and therefore missed my alarm this morning.

"I'm kind of busy dad." I replied distractedly as I hastily put together a sandwich, cucumber was all we had left so that would have to do.

"Not my fault you're late and you know I have knee problems, so go and see to the door you stupid bitch."

Despite not being in the same room, I could almost see the spittle flying across the room.

"Stupid twat can't even appreciate me slaving around to pay the bills and fill that monstrous appetite of his...." I muttered under my breath, grabbing some towel paper to wipe my hands on before I walked out, across the living room and over to the front door.

I opened it to find three men donning stained t-shirts and baggy sweatpants. Nicotine-stained teeth grinned at me.

"Hello there pretty." I frowned at their appearance. They were familiar faces.... Then I realised they were the local drug dealers. Not much of a threat, but a worrying sight never the less.

"What do you want?"

"We're here to speak to your dad, call him over, this is grown mens business, love." The one in the middle smirked.

I hesitated, wondering if it was worth slamming the door shut in their face. But before I could, I felt heavy breathing above my head.

"Let them in, Louie. You go back to the kitchen" Dad told me, pushing me aside. Glaring at the side of his face I did as told. After 10 minutes of trying to listen in on muffled conversation through the door whilst hurriedly putting the breakfast on a plate, they left. I emerged from the kitchen and placed the plate of bacon, eggs, beans and toast in front of dad.

"What did they want?" I stood, hand on hips, obscuring his view of the television.

"Nothing." His short reply -devoid of cussing, light sweat on his forehead and refusal to look me in the eyes immediately had me worried. This wasn't good.

"They're bad news dad, you shouldn't even be talking to them." I said, my eyes wondering over to the window watching their retreating backs down the street. Then I noticed my purse on the window sill, open.

My heart lurched and I grabbed it, looking inside. My eyes closed as I tried to quell the rage that washed over me. £1000 gone.

"I cannot believe you." My voice was dangerously quiet, teeth gritted as I turned to face my father who tried and failed to look angry.

"I worked so hard for that money and you STOLE it." My fists shook and tears blurred my vision. The hurt sat deep in my chest knowing that I worked through a flue and sacrificed my time and wellness to desperately pay the bills and now I was left at square one – again.

"I did NOT steal that! Your money is my money as long as you live under my roof!" He yelled. I threw my hands up in disbelief, tears streaming down my face.

"Not when I've worked so hard for it to pay the bills of YOUR house! It's not to fund your DRUGS MONEY!!!" I yelled. Dad froze, his drug habits had remained a largely unspoken secret between the both of us since mum passed. I had never mentioned it other than subtly suggesting help.

"How dare you."

"I dare because MY life has come to a standstill because of you! And I never minded because you're my father but you've stolen my money! I'm expected to do everything around here while you do NOTHING. I've been worn thin by all this shit and you still behave as if I'm a brat!" I screamed, throwing my purse, my words ending in a shudder as I began to cry into my hands.

"You worthless bitch." Lifting my head up, I stared up at him, shocked. He advanced on me, his face an angry red, a vein pulsed in his temple.

"You ARE a brat. It's because of you that this family has fallen apart. If it weren't for you, Mary would still be here and you KNOW it." I gasped, shaking my head and backing away. This couldn't be happening. He laughed, the sound empty. "Oh now you don't want to know?" Suddenly he was gripping my upper arms, squeezing them as he glowered down. "If it weren't for you being a drunken whore, your mother and your brother would still be alive! They never would've left and they never would've burned in that car!"

"No no no, stop." I shook my head, eyes burning, I could only look on in horror at what he was saying. He couldn't be saying this. He couldn't mean it.

"Stop what? Telling you your ugly truth? You can't argue facts! It's because of you that I had to deal with MY grief this way and we are where we are." He let go of my arms and I stumbled back, catching myself on the end of the couch. He looked at me, disgusted by what he saw. "My family is dead. They burned in that car while YOU survived. So don't you dare try to make amends." He turned his back and stood, hands fisted. His final words tore a hole straight through my already bleeding heart. "I wish it were you instead."