Heaven's Child ≫ SPN

29.2

It hurt a lot.

The glass shattered in my palm like I wanted, making me bleed, but I didn't anticipate the glass digging under my nails or my head hitting the corner of the island counter on the way down.

But either way, all that pain was almost unnoticeable next to the fluttery feeling in my chest as my dad jolted off his seat and ran to me. When his face was twisted with worry as he lifted me off the ground and carried me to the living room. How focused he was, picking the glass out of my palm with the tweezers, cringing slightly every time I winced.

And despite all that, he still wouldn't look at me.

"Dad?" I whispered, feeling a faint pounding in my head from the fall. He was on his knees beside the couch, carefully dabbing all my cuts with cream.

"You'll be fine," he said.

A small laugh left me, but so did a few tears. "Dad, do you hate me?"

His fingers froze.

"Dad..." I raised an unsure hand and touched his cheek but he kept his eyes on the floor.

"Talk to me," I lowered my head and tried to meet his eyes. "Hey, look at me. Please? Just once. Look at me. Dad? I love you."

He frowned deeply and silently tilted his face away from my hand. And then I resorted to begging.

"I love you, daddy, please. Please, you're supposed to care, you're supposed to love me, just, just look at me—"

"Stop, Eliza. Stop."

"Love me, please. I'll do better, I'll do everything better. I'll stop asking to go hunting, I'll do more chores, I'll go to college—"

"I said stop."

"I'll do anything, please. Please don't hate me."

"I don't hate you, stop." And finally, he met my eyes.

We looked at each other and I stared. I stared and stared and stared, trying so hard to read anything in his eyes, anything at all. But he had his guard up. I might as well have been trying to look through a one-way glass.

"I'm sorry," I breathed, and more tears came. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I put my face in my hands and waited for him to leave.

****

I was seated on the floor of my living room between Tammy's legs. She was on the couch and had her gentle fingers in my hair. She hummed while she took my ponytail apart and began to tug at the strands.

For just a moment, I let my guard down and I allowed myself to enjoy this. Enjoy being safe in her arms, here in my house. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend that this was real. That her fingers didn't feel ghostly like this wasn't some sort of dream.

"Tell me what's wrong baby," she whispered.

"I wish he didn't drink so much." It felt natural, saying whatever came to mind. I never had to lie or hide anything when it came to Tammy. She would ask me what was wrong and I would tell her all of it. Tammy was amazing in that way. "I hate how sad he is. I wish I knew how to fix it."

"Well," Tammy replied softly, but suddenly, her grip on my hair tightened and she pulled so hard that my head tilted back. I felt my eyes widen and my body go rigid at what I saw. "If you weren't a little demon baby that killed your own mother maybe he wouldn't need alcohol to survive everyday life, ever think of that you selfish bitch?"

I tried to free my hair from his grip, clawing at his hand and squirming under his hold, but only when three gunshots sounded did his grip ease. I hurried to my feet immediately, turning to see if I was going crazy.