Deep Inside

What did I do to deserve this?

     My dad has always told me that I
meant everything to the world. The world....revolved around just me for the first few years of my life. I thought I meant something to every living thing in this universe. Everything liked me, there was no hate, there was nothing bad in the world. It was just me and my dad having a great old time in our little universe. I knew I had nothing to worry or stress about because everything was okay. He would always make me feel better if I was blue. He would read me bedtime stories right before I went to bed. He gave me little kisses on the cheek randomly throughout the day. He was part of me. Part of my heart. Until one day....everything changed.

     "There's my little girl," my dad said walking through the door into my room.

     I was playing with my favorite doll my dad had given me as a baby. Even though it was worn out, and it was ripped on its right arm, I didn't care. I still loved it no matter what. I took it everywhere I went. Sometimes dad would have to pull it away from me just so I could eat or take a bath.

     "I cooked some eggs. Your favorite." He said smiling kindly down at my face.

     "Daddy, you know I hate eggs." I pouted.

     "You'll eventually like them...I just know it. Your mother was the same way you know. She HATED eggs when she was a teen, but then eggs where her favorite meal when she got just a little bit older." He said looking at the ceiling as if he was having a flashback.

     My mom died when I was born. She had a heart attack right after she had me. I never got to meet her, but I knew she was a lovely person because dad always talked about her. All the great stories they had when they were in high school. All the memories about their wedding and honeymoon. He just left out the non-age appropriate parts. Because I was only 6.

     "I don't care if mom liked them. They are gross." I said scrunching up my nose and sticking my tongue out at him.

     He rolled his eyes and sighed, "Fine, I'll make you some bacon. How does that sound?"

     I smiled up at him and stood up. I hugged him and said, "That would be perfect daddy."

     He smiled and hugged me back before heading to the kitchen to make me the bacon. I came, bringing my doll, and watched him cook. I loved watching my dad cook it was so satisfying. He always cooked everything so perfectly. Brown and crunchy.

     As he continued to cook the bacon, his phone started buzzing off. He stopped cooking the bacon and grabbed his phone. I followed his hand with my eyes. I watched his lips move, but I couldn't understand stand a word he was saying. I broke my gaze from his lips back to his hand when he put his phone in his pocket. He turned the temperature up on the stove so maybe it will cook faster.

     "Daddy? Who was that on the phone?" I asked tilting my head a bit, a habit of mine.

     "It was my boss. He needs to talk to me about something. He seemed...angry." He sighed and gazed away from the bacon for a second.

     "Angry?" I said confused.

     He didn't respond. His chest just started moving faster.

He had always been scared of his boss. Every time he got angry, he'd start to get physical. Sometimes when dad came home, he had bruises all over his face. I felt so bad for him. I wish he would quit, but there weren't any better jobs around. This one payed a lot of money to take care of us and the house.