Broken Faith ✓

Chapter 15: He Bruised My Heart

I tossed and turned. I was sleeping and the creaking in my dream was loud. But there was never any creaking in the swing dream.

As I brought myself to a more conscious level I was becoming more and more aware and I jolted my body up. I forced my eyes open. I could still hear it. There was some fumbling too.

This burglar wasn't quiet or careful. I got up avoiding the creaks in our room as my body went into stealth mode. I quickly covered Arlo's head with the rest of his body in the duvet.

I looked around the room. The only thing I could hit the burglar with and succeed in scaring him away was my lamp that I used to study. I was going to cost me but it was either that or having to dig deeper into my tiny pocket to replace what this burglar would steal which was most likely our kettle. It was the only valuable thing apart from our furniture. I looked at my faithful lamp, apologised and felt so disheartened.

I grabbed my lamp with a tight grip and slowly pried open our bedroom door. This burglar had the cheek to waste my electricity and my money by switching on our lights???!! I charged with all the force I had. The lamp I had in a death grip and I was holding it above my head as I ran to strike down on the burglar.

But as the burglar turned around and I recognised the familiar shapes of this particular face I lowered the lamp setting it down on the table next to me. "What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, the apprehension beginning to beget itself in my stomach and working its way up to my voice and the words coming out of my mouth.

The eyes were bloodshot red. I don't even remember seeing the whites of these eyes anything but red. "Hiya darling" he stepped closer lowering his face to mine.

I could smell his diet on his lingering and strong breath: alcohol, a mix of different kinds but I no longer cared which. Nor did I want to find out. I just wanted him gone. Him and his ludicrous problems gone and this apprehension that was tightening the knots in my stomach strenuously with every second he was staying.

"I was wondering if you would be a doll and give me some? Because you are a doll aren't you?" He smiled with that haughty smirk I wished I could forget.

"I can't. You know I can't. It's not on me" I replied quietly careful not to wake Arlo. He was not happy with my response because as soon as I started speaking that haughty smirk was replaced by anger. Hot headed, seething, boiling anger.

"I need it. NOW!" he bellowed.

"I don't have anything!" I frantically replied, the anticipation evident in my voice. He moved his head closer to mine again. "You're just like her. She always lied that she didn't have anything. Camille always said that she needed it and that she didn't have it. That's what she taught you before she left? That's what the BITCH taught you before she left for hell??!!" he screamed full of spite.

All of a sudden I was breathing faster. I must have blanked out for a second because I had no idea why but the anger on his face had been replaced by shock. He raised a hand to his cheek which I noticed was now red.

Uh oh. My hand felt tingly. I couldn't have. I wouldn't. I was so scared. But he insulted Gran. So it was very much possible that I... the anger on his face returned even stronger than before. "You refused to give me money and now you DARED to slap me?" no words would come out my mouth. It didn't matter anyway, no matter what I would say nothing could defuse the situation.

He pushed me with all his might to the floor and he started kicking before I could react. Anywhere and everywhere he just relentlessly kicked. This wasn't how a daughter should be meeting her father after a year but he didn't care. He did, an eon ago when we were at the swings.