The List

chapter 4

I reveled in silence. It was my thing, it's how I got all my work done, and it's how I lived my days, living in the silent thoughts running through my head. I didn't need to have constant human interaction and fills awkward gaps with meaningless talk. The silence was my serenity.

It was quiet when I got home Sunday evening after a few tutoring sessions, which wasn't usually a sign for alarm, but the quietness always seemed to stir the worst in my dad. I kicked off my shoes at the front, pulling off my cardigan and tossing it on a table we had by the door. The T.V was on in the living room, a soft hum of news and terror in the world, and it cast a blueish light in the darkened house. I walked into the room, surprised to see my dad, awake and watching it mildly interested.

"Hey Alice," he attempted at a smile, but it looked too forced, and was almost a grimace. He lifted the glass in his hand to his lips, tipping it back and let the amber-colored liquid drain into his body.

"Hi Dad," My voice was husky and strained, and I fruitlessly attempted to clear it, "you had work today?" positioned myself on the edge of the couch, wanting to be close, but not exactly comfortable just yet with him.

"I just had to pop in for a while, get a case organized," he muttered, staring down into the empty glass.

It was unfortunate we even owned specific glasses that were only used for this- for his nights spent in front of a television screen, draining away bottle after bottle of dark liquor.

"Brandy already?" I breathed tentatively.

His tie was loosened, the first few buttons of his dress shirt undid. He leant forward over to the coffee table where a bottle of alcohol sat, along with a few files I was sure were from the office.

My father, the man who drank and worked his life away.

He laughed emotionlessly, "I don't drink brandy Alice, I drink bourbon. I thought you'd know by now, I've drank the same brand for the past 14 years," he poured the liquor into it, but when he sat up, he offered me the glass.

I furrowed my brows and shook my head vigorously. There was no way in hell I'd ever drink with my dad. He shrugged at me and downed the glass again, almost immediately going for more.

"Dad, don't you want to slow down?" I tried to conceal the worry in my voice, and consequently failed; my dad drank often, but even so, my dad drunk was something I never wanted to see.

It wasn't exactly like he was abusive to Claire or I, sometimes yes, we got in his way, and yes sometimes we had to cover accidental bruises up, but for the most part, he left a mess, and spewed lies up the stairs to us.

Lies like how we ruined his life.

We didn't always pay attention to his words thrown at our shut doors, but nonetheless, they freaking hurt.

"Don't tell me what to do Alice," His eyes were narrowed at me as he tipped the glass back. He spoke again when he took the glass away, leaning forward to me, his alcohol-tinged breath fanning over me, "Where have you been all this time?" he put the glass down, and turned on the couch so his full body faced me, his dark brown hair shagging over to the side of his head.

"I've been tutoring Dad, like I always am."

He raised an eyebrow, "You tutor?" He questioned, "Didn't know you were smart." He said it in a serious way, as if he didn't know I spent all of my time tutoring to help support my sister and I.

I didn't understand why, but this hurt me in a way only my dad could. I stood, the hurt laced on my face. Everyone knew I was relatively intelligent, that my average in all my classes were at least 97%, but he wouldn't listen, he didn't care.

My father, the man who didn't even care that his daughter was more than a crying baby.

I did this all, all of it to make him proud, to make Mom proud, but obviously it was a fruitless effort. It was hurtful to see my hard work brushed away as if I were an airhead.

"Alice! I was joking- it was a joke!" He exclaimed to my retreating back. "I know you're smart, dammit Alice, come back!" A pleading edge found it's way into his words, but my body was already flying up the stairs.

I know he tried to bond with us and he thought he was doing okay, but he was doing less than okay, nothing was ever the same since Mom died.

***

let me make this clear: abuse is not fucking okay. what you see alice and angelica going through? not fucking okay. if you are being treated less than you should be, being treated subhuman, whether it's in a relationship, a family member, or a friend, call the authorites. you do not deserve to put up with the crap that so many already do.

i want you all to be in a safe environment, and if it's practically impossible to get out of it, i am always here to talk.

xx

all my love