My Lacrosse Prince (A Mikey Murphy Fanfiction)

Chapter 4: An Unexpected Guest

*Cara's POV*

You can always tell a day my father was stressed by the morning after. He usually has a migraine and is terribly irritable. He'll have bloodshot eyes, and bruised up knuckles. But when he's really stressed, you can tell by the people he chooses.

"What are you doing, Derrick?" I asked, swinging my legs while sitting on the counter; my feet didn't come close to the floor.

He ruffled my slightly wavy hair, "I'm just filling these bottles up for the boys. Wanna help me, little monkey?"

I jumped from the counter, pumping my little legs to Derrick's side. I nodded vigorously, resulting in an off-balance step. I tumbled to the floor, and laughed, as Derrick did.

"See, what'd I tell you? Monkeys are tough. Okay, so I'll fill these with water, and you put a lid on, and put 'em in the holder!" he picked me up, and sat me on the foldable table next to the sink.

We'd filled up three 6-bottle containers while singing, "Ninety-Nine Bottles of Milk on the Wall"; we stopped at about "Eighty-Three Bottles of Milk on the Wall"

When we were done, I turned around, to go outside when Derrick stopped me, "Cara, did you fall?"

He must've seen the swelling on my head, because it was completely obvious. There would've been dried blood matting my hair, if my mother hadn't fixed it that morning. Of course, I didn't know the severity at the time.

"Um, no. . . I just have a cowlick," I replied, honestly thinking he meant the bump in the front.

He walked over, and used the water on his hands to try and smooth it out. He pressed his thumb over the place of impact, and I winced.

"That's what I thought. And the bruise on your arm?" he questioned skeptically.

"That was from papa yesterday. He was angry, and grabbed my arm really, reeaaaallllyyy hard. He put me upstairs at 4 pm without dinner! And he threw me around a bit.."

At the time, I didn't know how ruthless he, my father, could be. My older brother moved out at 18, to escape the abuse. He told me he'd be back for me. That proves that the world is full of lies; lies that range from little white lies, to large black and purple ones.

"I'm okay though. Monkeys are strong!" I put my tiny hand in his palm, and he squeezed it.

"You're the strongest monkey I know. But, you need to tell me when this happens. I'll try my best to make it stop, okay?"

I nodded my head. I really didn't think it was that great of a problem at the time; but reflection truly magnifies that wrong-doing. Doesn't it? It multiplies the, "What if I..."'s and the "Why..."'s.

As I was leaving, I saw Derrick's door was closed. Yelling and banging was seeping through it, startling me and making me walk quicker. I heard words I'd only heard on my father's 'stressed out' days. In fact, what was going on inside that room was between my father and my protector. For my safety, mother came to pick me up from practice. Her under-eye concealer was dripping, revealing a bruise worse than mine.

"Ah Shit," I mumbled, wiping the last soggy spoonful of cereal off of my white shorts.

I pushed myself off of the bar stool, rinsing my bowl and spoon and setting it in the dishwasher. I walked to my room, and stepped into galaxy Vans, which complimented my purple muscle tee, and galaxy sports bra. (http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=127256744)