Mommy?

4

Luke

I lied. I said dad wouldn't mind what time i was home, and at the time, had hoped my dead would be out by 7 or 8. That's what I continue to pray as I step quietly into my house and glance around. dad wasn't passed out on the couch, like he usually was.

Maybe he's out?

I quietly ran up the stairs, only to be met with my dad drunkenly stumbling around my room.

I tried to stay silent. He hadn't seen me. I wasn't supposed to leave the house without permission, and he ply ever let me g to get groceries, but I left all the time without his consent. Usually, he was too drink to notice.

"Whe-whereveyou been?" Dad slurred as his eyes locked with mine.

"You sa-said I could go to the grocery store, remember? I was getting groceries."

"Well yooouurew late."

"The bus broke down and delayed an hour."

"Don't fucking lie to me, Lucas!" I shutter.

"I-I'm not. There's um, there's, I can make you dinner if you want?" I tried to distract.

"N-NO! Go to mahroom and wait!" I gulped as he tried to force back tears. There was no point arguing now, it'll only make things worse.

All I can do is pace dads room wondering what he's gonna do today.

I don't have to worry about anything sexual. He has never hurt me that way. But he has a wooden bat he seems to particularly enjoy wailing me with.

What will I tell Delilah tomorrow if I'm all bruised up?

I quickly throw my phone in my room to be sure my dad won't break it, then go back to his room.

I'll have to tell her nevermind. But I really don't want to.

I can't believe I was such a brat today. God she'd probably be glad if I cancelled tomorrow. I wipe away the tears flowing from my eyes as I hear my dad coming up the stairs.

Why couldn't she have just let me stay the night? She didn't know, obviously, but I almost wish she did. But she can't. She can't know.

My dad storms into the room, and as I predicted, he has his wooden bat.

***

I try to keep my sobs quiet as I quickly crawl to my room.

"Fucking pathetic, whiny little baby." My dad mutters, mostly sober now.

I close my door and lock it, crawling into my bed and letting my sobs rack my body.

It hurts so much to cry but I can't help it.

There's no marks on my face, I made sure. I didn't let him hit me any where Delilah would see. I'll just wear a long sleeve shirt tomorrow for the bruises on my arms.

I grab my phone and see that Delilah texted me goodnight, which for some reason helps me calm down a bit.

I wish she were here to rub my back and play with my hair and cuddle me and call me baby boy. I live it when she calls me baby boy.

I can't believe I almost called her mommy. I know she noticed, too. But she didn't seem to mind. Still, its embarrassing.