Between Us [Spaces Sequel]

s e v e n t e e n

Recovery took me about two weeks until I could finally get up again. My abdomen still hurt like hell, but I was slowly getting better. Harry had called every night so far, always worried that I wasn't feeling well. Even now that I was apart from him, our bond felt stronger and better. It was incredible what three words could mean. Just three simple words that meant the world.
I hadn't gone to university and I had Kaya tell me about what I had missed. Even though physically I felt miserable, mentally I felt better. My father wouldn't bother me anymore, and even if he would, he could never hurt me the same way he did before. I would defend myself. I needed to become independent, I knew that. I was scared, but I was also hopeful. And hope is the only thing stronger than fear. I was hoping for a life without my father. A life in which I could pretend he was dead or he never existed. That made everything easier. Maybe I could start a new life. A life in freedom. After graduating from university, I could start a life with Harry.
As I was reading through some of my college books, my phone rang. I smiled as I saw my boyfriend's name on the screen.
"Hello?" I answered the phone.
"Hi," he said, his voice raspy. "How are you?"
"I'm doing well. The pain is going away."
"Great to hear that, love." He coughed.
"Hey, you alright?" I asked.
"Just a little sick, that's all. Nothing some tea couldn't fix."
I giggled. "I wish I could take care of you. Did you just have a show?"
"Yeah, had quite a few voice cracks, but it was alright," he replied. "Only two months to go until we finish the first leg of the tour."
"I can't wait to see you," I said, smiling.
"Two months," he exclaimed, but groaned shortly afterwards. "I don't think I can wait that long."
"Me neither."
"How about I fly you and Kaya out to one of our shows sometime?" Harry suggested.
"Sounds great," I admitted. "And now, you're gonna go to bed. I can hear that you're tired and you need to rest. You're sick and you're probably tired from your show."
"You're right," he said, yawning. "I love you, Scar."
"I love you," I said and hung up the phone.
I smiled at the thought of him and returned to studying.

A week later, I walked home from university. Kaya was gone for a while, visiting her sister. I wanted to go home and cook some food, since I had invited some friends over. When I got closer to our appartment complex, my stomach turned. In front of the door stood a man. I couldn't recognize him, but there was this strange perception I had of him, as if I had known that something was off about him. The closer I got, the clearer my mind became. It was him, my father, right on my doorstep. I slowly reached into my pocket, keeping my phone in my hand, so I could call the police if necessary. My mind was a mess, telling me to turn around, to run. But in my body, my blood was boiling with anger. How could a father almost kill his daughter and then be disrespectful enough to show up at her doorstep again? I wanted to punch him, make him feel what I had felt. I clenched my left hand into a fist to concentrate my anger only on that.
"Scarlett," he finally said softly, as I stood in front of him. I made sure to keep my distance from him, to stop myself from attacking him.
"What do you want?"
"I came to apologize," he said, stepping closer to me. I took a step sidewards, towards the door.
"You came to apologize?" I said, tears in my eyes.
"Yes," he replied and nodded. For the first time in years, he seemed normal, somehow more present than he had ever been before.
"Do you know what you did to me?" I said, raising my voice slightly. He remained silence. "Remember when you almost beat me to death years ago and then you made me lie about it? Do you know what that felt like? Being abused by you, day by day. Fearing to come home. Scared to say a word."
"Scar-"
"I wasn't done yet," I interrupted him. It felt as though my heart was going to explode in my chest, my lungs were set on fire, my head was pounding. "Weeks ago, you beat me up. For nothing. You beat me up, because I decided to run away from you to save my own fucking life! I had to be brought to the hospital, due to inner bleedings. I could've died. Because of you. Because you couldn't contain your anger. Because you prefer drinking over communicating. You are scum. You almost killed me twice, so don't even try to come to me to apologize."
"I only wanted the best for you."
I gave him a derisive laugh, failing to hold my tears back. "You say you wanted the best for me? What kind of father beats their child, their own flesh and blood up? You never wanted the best for me. You used me to release your anger. You destroyed me. You destroyed everything I could've had. You took my life from me. But I won't let that happen again. You can save your apologies. You can save every word you wanted to say to me today, because I don't need this. An apology won't fix this. An apology won't give me my life back."
Tears started forming in his eyes. "You need to understand how sorry I am. I am your father, I made mistakes."
"You were never my father. You are a back-stabbing narcissist who is willing to sacrifice the life of his own daughter to find the slightest bit of relief in their own miserable life. I hate you. You don't deserve my sympathy, nor my forgiveness. You deserve nothing," I now shouted, probably making the neighbors aware of what was happening. "All those years, I have blamed myself for something that wasn't my fault. And right now, I am truly happy. I have everything I ever wished for. You won't ruin this for me."
He wanted to say something, but I stopped him. "You don't deserve a thing, especially not from me. So if you want to make up for what you did to me, leave. Don't say another word and fuck off. Leave me the hell alone and never talk to me again. And then maybe I'll be able to get over this. But I will never look at you as my father. I will always see the man who ruined my life, who almost beat me to death several times, who let me down when I needed someone. So please, do me a favor and leave. Let me live my life the way I deserve to live it. No matter how long it will take me to get over this, I never want you back in my life, because these wounds will never really go away. They will remain. And I will never look at you and not want to kill you."
"You can't just push me out of your life."
"I can. And I will."
And with that, I opened the door and slammed it shut behind me.
My body felt numb as I reached my appartment. Tears were uncontrollably flooding down my face.