Help...

Part 2

His face was worn and tired. If you looked close enough you could see a flash of unknown emotion go through his eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came. Sometimes I doubt I even saw it. You could feel the tension and despair in the air that day. Even at a young age, I always knew when something big was going to happen. It was such a strange feeling, like the one when mamma died, it made me restless. That was the first time it had happened. A lot was about to change in my quaint little world, starting with my father, and the feeling I had gotten when around him from that day on.

After the funeral, he didn't care about much. He had thrown himself into his work. Never again had I seen a soft look on his face. It was always pulled back into a deep scowl, that matched his dead eyes. At first, I had overlooked his bad habits, dismissing it as his way of grieving. But it had gone much deeper than that. At the start of it all, he came home a half hour- forty-five minutes late, for about a week. A half hour turned into an hour, which turned into two, which turned into four. Soon he started coming home at two in the morning. When I realized what was really going on, he was in too deep to pull out. As a result, I had become more of a maid/mother than big sister and daughter.

One night I had fallen asleep on the couch by mistake. I had just gotten Ethan to fall asleep, he had been throwing a fit because he wanted Daddy. It broke my heart to see him like that, and that's when I made the decision to try and stay up and wait for him to get home. I knew what he was doing was wrong, but the thought of having my only other close family member ripped away from me was too much to bear, I buried the secret within me, kept under lock and key. Two years later and I still haven't found it in me to stand up to my Father.

That night, I had gotten my wish.

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My dreamless sleep was interrupted by a slam of the door. My father drunkenly stumbled in, reeking of beer. Behind him came in a young girl, no older than 15 years old following him like a lost puppy. She wore a tight red dress. It was made entirely of lace and silk, covering the bare minimum. I could tell my father hadn't seen me yet by the way they were practically eating each other faces off. Me being me, obviously not knowing what they were doing decided to speak up.

"Daddy, what's going on? What are you and that strange woman doing?" You could hear the tiredness and confusion in my voice.

They broke the kiss and stared at me. You could see the shock on my father's face, he quickly covered it up with a look of disdain. The girl looked like she was just caught red-handed. I just blankly stared at them, confused at what they were doing and what was going on. Silence quickly enveloped the room, the girl not knowing what to do and my father just as caught up in his thoughts.

Still not having my question answered, I asked again. "Daddy, what's going on? It's late why did you bring that girl over? Are you going somewhere?" My voice trembled as I spoke. I knew a lot for my age, but it still wasn't enough. I wasn't enough to keep my family grounded.

I guess my question was destined to go unanswered. I never get a verbal response. Instead of responding to my concern, he turned to the girl. "Brittney, go wait in my room ok? I'll be taking care of my little girl down here. I don't want you coming out for any reason, do you understand me?" His voice had an edge to it, and I knew the girl had caught on. She meekly nodded and quickly but quietly shuffled up to the room sending a sharp but curious glare towards me. As soon as the click of the door was heard his eyes immediately found mine.

I wanted nothing more than to cower under my father's cold gaze, but the thought of my brother kept me from doing so. I held my ground but you could see my body visibly shaking. His soulless eyes stared into mine. I felt as if he was digging up my nonexistent buried secrets. Beads of sweat started to form on my brow from the intensity of his eyes. Still, I didn't move.

He knew I wasn't backing down so he slowly started stalking towards me. A malicious smile on his face and the same glint in his eyes as I saw at the funeral. The same feeling I had felt came back once again. On one hand, every fiber of my being was telling me to run, to be anywhere but here. My head was screaming danger, but my heart was telling me that my father would never hurt me.

I didn't know what voice to listen to.

The fact that I wasn't paying attention must have been misinterpreted as an invitation. I was effectively drawn out my thoughts, with my now stinging pink cheek being snapped to the side. I allowed tears to cloud my judgment at that moment and fell down to my knees in a state of shock. Next thing I know my father was walking away from me mumbling something under his breath. The only word I was able to catch was "weak". From then on, every time he was near me, I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen. For all I knew, this was my new life.