Look Up At The Sky

Chapter 3

"Lilly, look at me." I said, bending down to her level. She's eight so she's a bit shorter than me. At least for now. "Have you eaten? Are you hungry?" I asked, she nodded and said she'd eaten. "Okey good. I want you to go up to my room and wait there for me. How about you put on some music of mine that you want to listen to? I'm going to clean up a bit and then try and talk to dad a bit. I'll be up soon, promise." I told her and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. She nodded, turned around and ran so fast that her pretty little dress swung back and forth. She's so precious, that little kid.

I went in to the kitchen, it was a total mess just like always. There was cans, frying pans, knifes, endless amount of plates and cups. Papers and magazines and some school books. I signed and then started cleaning up the worst. I wished my mom was here, I miss her so much.

"Dad? Dad? Dad, where are you?" I called out, walking towards the living room. There he sat, as always on his stupid arm chair. About seven different kinds of liqueur bottles, such as vodka, tequila and gin. About 30 beer cans as well. All of it placed on either the floor, the small table beside him or on one of the book shelfs. I've told him so many times not to get drunk, especially when Lilly's home. I don't care if I'm home but Lilly's just eight, she shouldn't see her dad like that. I stood in front of him, he was sleeping. There was no way I could wake him up, just by calling his name anyway. I took a bucket, filled it with water and took a deep breath. He'll be mad as heck but I need to talk to him, now. I threw the full bucket of cold water over my dad and he woke up with a small yell and curse. Looking around confused until his eyes landed on me. All I could see was absolute fury, his dark brown eyes looked almost black. I hated seeing him like this. He tried to stand up but he just fell back on the chair.

"Dad, you can't keep doing this. You're drunk every night and you have been for the past four years. Mom leaving was hard on all of us - Lilly was only three almost four year old when mom left, she couldn't remember her -. You need to take your responsibility as a dad." I said with a serious voice looking at my dad. He looked back at me but didn't say anything. "I love you, but you're scaring Lilly. She had to make her own dinner today and.."

"Yeah, and who's fault is that?!" He yelled at me. "Huh? Who didn't come home to make her dinner. I'm not the one who forgot to make it. You are, you are responsible to make it. You are responsible to feed her. You are." he kept yelled cutting me off, pointing at me. My own anger with him started to boil up and I had to get it out. This wouldn't be pretty.

"I wake Lilly up, I help her get ready for school. I make you and her breakfast plus prepare some lunch for you. I drop her of for school and pick her up. I'm the one who does all the cleaning, laundry, dishes, fixing everything with the economy and so on. I'm the one who's holding not only one but two jobs so we can have food, pay the bills and buy Lilly some new clothes when she's grown out of her old ones. I'm the one who sacrifices my free time after school and on the weekends to work. Whilst you sit on your lazy butt drinking, getting wasted and scare your youngest daughter. Plus I still keep straight A's in school and I don't even know how I do it with all the lack of sleep from calming Lilly every night. I am the one taking care of us and I have been the one doing so since I was twelve years old. You managed to take care of us for one year and then you just though 'hey way not give all the responsibility to a twelve year old?!'. I need you to look for a job, getting it, keep it and don't buy alcohol for your pay check. I also need you to take care of us for once. That's what I need you to do." I started to yell at him. I could see his eyes darken the more I said. He stood up looking me straight in the eyes.

"You shut your mouth, little missy." He told me walking towards me. I felt massively uncomfortable.

"I'll talk to you more in the morning, when you're a bit more sober. " I said starting to walk toward the staircase. On the second step I felt a strong grip around my arm, swinging me around making me drop my phone. My dad. His eye's looked to be on fire, his breath too. The smell of alcohol honestly made me think why he hadn't died from alcohol poisoning yet.