Scars And Smiles

CHAPTER TWO

To kick off the story, I’ll start by the days of my childhood, since birth in 1999, up until I was six years old, I can honestly say I was a baby boy. At that time,, when I was born, it was still in the 90’s and just the start of the year 2000, but they weren’t the good old days. If I could remember it right, the first day I actually realized that everything wasn’t all fun and games, was on my sixth-birthday.

The day was pleasant and there were no hassles of any kind, my mother baked a small sponge-vanilla cake, icing bubblegum flavoured with the traditional six candles stuck into it, alighted.
I enjoyed my day, although my father was not home, as usual, and my mother and I were left alone in our house until it was about 9pm.
It was a cold, stormy night, the thunder was roaring, lightning was flashing and cracking, while our curtains were almost blown off their rails by the wind, when suddenly our front door smacks open!

My room was the closest to the front door and while I was on my bed cuddling my new teddy, I heard the bang from the door and got one hell of a fright. I clung onto my teddy bear, which I got as a gift from my mom. I ran up to- and saw my mother, angered and disappointed, standing up from the small living room’s only couch to inspect the door.

When she got to the front door, the porch was soaked from the thunderstorm, the rain still falling heavily and lightning, striking.

Other than the lightning giving off a bit of light, we did not have any electricity and no lights due to my father, being behind on payments and bills, it was pitch-black. The darkest night there possibly could have been. The cold wind blew into the house, waving through my mom’s long black hair, the tiny sparkles of drizzling raindrops short to follow the breeze inside.
She squinted her eyes and held herself with a slight shiver from the wind, as she tried to look out, with the impatience to see if my father would maybe be home by now.

The first strike of lightning hit, and my mother was shocked to see that dad’s car was home, but he is nowhere to  be seen.

The second strike hit, and as the thunder silenced, my mother heard footsteps through the water, nearing the front porch. She started getting tense as she looked left and right, while taking a few steps backward.

The third mighty strike hit, louder and lighter than the rest and as the light shone upon the walkway into our home, my mom straightened her sight, my father stood right in front of her, inches away from her face, glaring at her in an awful way.

She screamed of fright, slipped off the floor and fell backward onto her back, crawling and kicking away from the door. I got as much as a fright as what my mom did, because I only stood a few steps away from her, seeing her fall as hard as she did and hearing her panic in her raised voice, screaming from fear.

My father looked normal and frightened to see my mom fall, for a second or two, until he burst out laughing at my mom, crouching down a bit and pointing a finger at her. His horrible breath, smelling like hot whisky and strong wines, echoed along with the sound of his fake laughter. That was just no way to treat a lady or your own wife. It was there and then when both my mom and I realized that he was drunk again.

My mother was breathing heavily, holding her chest, heaving as if she had a heart attack. Suddenly she stood up, my father still laughing, and she moved closer to me. I ran up to my father, still excited, I mean it was my birthday, and jumped up to greet my dad expecting him to give me the love I needed from him as my father.

My dad kept laughing, and when he stopped he saw me in front of him and he pushed me out of his way. I fell down against the wall, frowning from confusion. My mom reprimanded my father by his name,
    “Robert! Don’t you dare do that to him!”