Butterfly

27. Than Never To Have Loved At All.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Than Never To Have Loved At All.

♡ Jessica Washington ♡

The next days pass quickly, before I finally pluck up the courage to speak to my dad. I've hardly left the house, not even going to school. I've done the work at home, so at least I'm not behind, but I'm scared to leave my dad alone.

It's December 15th, and I still haven't really seen my dad, apart from hearing him drunkenly stumble down the stairs to get something to eat. At least now he is eating again.

I'm planning on going back to school on Monday, so hopefully this goes well. I leave my bedroom and walk across the hall to my dad's room, where I knock on the door lightly. He doesn't respond, and I sigh, twisting the handle and walking inside.

"Hey," I say, and he looks up, acknowledging me for the first time. He pauses the TV and puts down his bottle of beer. He's surrounded by the smell of alcohol and sweat, with empty bottles scattered all around the room. I sigh, looking around at the mess in front of me. I think my dad needs help, and I'm not sure that that can be me.

"What do you want?" my dad slurs, clearly drunk. I roll my eyes, leaning against the door frame.

"I wanted to talk to you," I reply, and my dad sighs, not responding.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, I haven't seen you since the funeral. I want you to know that you can speak to me, dad. I want you to talk to me," I tell him, and my dad rolls his eyes, imitating my action from earlier.

"I'm fine, I just want to be left alone," my dad replies, taking another mouthful of his beer. He doesn't meet my eyes - he can't, because I remind him too much of mum.

"You're literally drinking yourself to death, dad, I want to help," I protest, and my dad groans.

"You'll help me by leaving me alone," my dad replies, sounding more frustrated.

"Well I've left you alone for fifteen days and you're drowning yourself in alcohol and watching the football which you don't even like, so clearly it isn't helping!" I answer, getting frustrated myself. I exhale slowly to try and calm down.

"I'm fine, Jessica," my dad comments, finishing his bottle.

"Well you're clearly not fine. You can't even look me in the eye, dad, you're not okay. And it's okay to not be okay, I want to help you, dad, please just speak to me," I plead, since seeing my dad like this is heartbreaking.

"Get out of my house," my dad says lowly, and I look up in surprise. Seeing my surprise, he repeats himself.

"You're seriously throwing me out because I want you to talk?" I question, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I don't want to ever look at you again! Get out," my dad says, and I sigh, closing my eyes for a second and shaking my head. It hurts too much for him to look at me, because it reminds him of mum.

"Congratulations, dad. Not only have you lost mum, you've lost me too," I reply quietly, before turning around and closing the door behind me. I walk into my room and gather up some things into a bag before running down the stairs and out of the house, locking the door behind me. I walk down the drive and look up at the house, and see my dad looking through the window. I roll my eyes, before turning around and walking down the street, leaving. If he wants time to himself, fine. I'll give him that, maybe it'll make him get his act together, I don't know. But he clearly doesn't want me, so he can't have me.