Bruises

8: not okay

I quickly unlocked the door to my house. Worry had risen in Ayden because of my father, but he didn't turn around or refuse to take me home but instead went along with it willingly. My outfit from last night hung upon my figure, slightly crinkled and dirty from the little fight that had occurred.

"Winter," in front of me was my father, eyes squinted and pale and dull. His face drooped like the shirt that hung on his neck and fell to trim of his shorts.

"Dad," he slowly walked towards me, his bare feet sticking and peeling across the hard wood flooring. His hand comes across my arm, making me flinch. His touch gentle, his touch sober. I sigh, and pull my arm around so my hand meets his. He smiles, lips thin and cracked. He wraps his arms around me. I stand there, still, not reacting. His hugs used to be these warm, big bear hugs. Now he is skin and bone, wrinkled and aged and drunk most of the time.

"I love you," he says, pulling away to cradle my face in his hands. Gazing upon the bruise. His eyebrows furrowed, frown painted across his face. Tear trickling down his cheek. "What?" he repeats this over and over, pulling away, wringing his hands, looking at the others upon my arms. He starts to shake his head, tears pouring down his face, stomping his feet, soon yelling.

"Daddy!" I rush over to him as clambers and shouts and shakes. He pushes himself into the wall, falling to the floor. "Daddy it's fine everything is fine."

Everything is actually out of control.

Yet what he doesn't realize is that he is the cause.

I pulled my father up to his feet and guided him upstairs to his bed. Cracked pictures of my mother were everywhere, a couple of beer bottles hanging around here and there. I pull the covers over him and plant a kiss upon his forehead and reassure him that he just needs sleep.

Once he is out, I walk into my room strangled with fear and exhaustion and emotions and throw my stuff on my bed. Grabbing my phone I head over to the bathroom. I strip of last night's clothes, brush out my hair, and hop into the shower. I let the water trickle throughout my tangled curls and battered skin. I watch water go down the drain, think, wash my hair, think, wash my body, think, pound my fist into the wall because of one thing; my dad will never be the same. Ever.

Dripping, I step out of the shower and wring out my hair and dry my body. I look in the dirty mirror hanging upon my wall. Bags hung under my eyes, a frown was drawn across my face, and my body slumped all over. A couple hours of sleep only goes so far.

Once in my room, I throw on a pair of flannel pajama pants and a cami. I crawl under the covers with my phone, texting Ayden until slowly but surely, I am asleep.

A/N

Guess who's back

Back again

Savi's back, back again :))

I FINALLY UPDATED UM YASSS

By the way, ik this chapter was short, but it was like a transition chapter plus I just wanted to show you her father sober.

Anyways I hope you have enjoyed and thank you all so much for reading tehe :)) <33

Please vote and all that jazz *sassy*

xoxo