Breathe Again

Prologue

I was 15 years old the first time it happened. My father came home, drunk- like he had been the past 8 months. I lay awake in bed, just like every night, waiting for him to get home. I heard him fumbling around downstairs in the kitchen, pots and pats clanging, before heavy steps ascended the stairs. My door knob jiggled before slowly creaking open, casting a sliver of light across my room. My dad slowly walked into my room, surprisingly quiet for a drunk man. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to even out my breathing, so he wouldn't know I was awake. He did this almost every night. Sitting on the edge of my bed, drunk off his ass, staring at me while whispering what were normally depressing, broken words. He always told me that I reminded him of my mother, even though she was dead. She had died 9 months prior to that night- cancer. It was hard on us both, I lost my mother, my bestfriend. He lost his soul mate. Maybe that was why this particular night he began to stroke my hair, before then moving down my back, then to my lower back, then over my butt and to my thighs before moving back up again. My breathing had accelerated at this point. He had never touched me like this.

"I know you're awake, Julie, we haven't been intimate in months. Let me make you feel good." He had slurred, his breath washing over the back of my neck. He had thought I was my mother, after all, I looked just like her with my then mid length curly mocha colored  hair, bright green eyes, small button nose, and full lips. I inherited everything from my mother, I was esentially a carbon copy of her. My petite 5'3' frame, size 6 shoe, even the gold flecks in my irises were just like my mothers. The way I talked, walked, the same D cup breast size. When my mother was alive, we were sometimes mistaken as sisters, she looked so youthful. We both shared happiness in our eyes, and smiles on our faces. She was there for me when I was down, and then 12 months before that night, tragedy struck our family when the doctor uttered the words.

"I regret to inform you, Mrs. Johnson that we have discovered Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma in your body through our multiple screenings, and normally treatable through chemotherapy, it has spread to multiple places throughout your body, and I am afraid it might be best if you do not undergo chemotherapy, and instead spend as much time with your family as you can before...". My mother had been given 3 months to live, and she lived them with everything she could, spending all her time with me and my father before she went. We thought we were prepared for her to go. We told eachother we would always be there for eachother. Instead, my dad found solace in the bottom of a bottle, and I was left to my own vices. Now, we have resorted to this, him coming into my bedroom in a drunken stupor every night, talking to me as if I was my mother. Back to that night, so many years ago, yet still completely engrained into my mind. My father continued the journey with his hand, up and down my back.

"Julie, get up, I'm missing you. Help me out. I already know you're awake. Open your eyes, Julie." My eyes had fluttered open slowly. "Julie, baby. Give me some love."

"Dad... I'm your daughter, Adalynn... remember me, dad?" was what I had replied.

"No... you're Julie. Addy is asleep in bed right now, so we can have some fun.. you just have to be quiet."

"No... dad I promise i'm not, I'm not Mom". Then the slap had come.

"Shut the hell up. Get out of bed right now." I had slowly gotten out of bed, my feet touching the cold hardwood floor, my legs were then exposed in my small sleep shorts and tank top. My father had looked me over, it made me shiver in disgust. I had held my tears in. No father should ever lay a hand on his daughter, or look at her in that way. No matter how drunk. With his next words my life had changed once again.

"Get on your knees, you stupid slut. Trying to fool me into thinking you're our daughter. You haven't given me anything in 9 months, and now you will." He had forced himself on me that night. Besides my mother dying, that had been the worst night of my life. I became who I am today that night. It had broken me into pieces, and then with each night it happened I felt the pain all over again. The pain of losing my mother, of having a drunk as a father, of losing myself. Now.. here I am today. Adalynn Rose Johnson, heartbroken, alone, and completely unhappy.