Weekends

37- Insecurity and Iteration- B

I know it's stupid, but even two days after the whole thing with Anderson went down, I still couldn't sleep. I felt so disgusting. It was almost as if there was still a ghost of his hands violently touching my body. I had showered a total of 13 times in the past two days and scrubbed parts of my skin raw because I couldn't shake the idea that he had touched me. I knew that this was bad, but I didn't want to talk to Dallon about it. Sure, I trusted him, but if I brought it up, I feared that he would be reminded of how weak I was.

Ever since Dallon and I had gotten together, I was trying to change anything about myself that was wrong. I tried to only speak around him instead of use my whiteboard, but that was less because of him and more because I knew I had to overcome it if I wanted to being a functioning adult. I was trying to get a hold on my anxiety and my insecurities. I had been trying more with my appearance, but I'm not sure if he'd noticed.

With all of this that I was doing in order to keep Dallon interested in me, I wasn't about to ruin it by depending on him to be there any time I broke down. Sure, I'd love to go to him right now and have him hold me, but I couldn't expect that of him. He'd never do that to me, but even when he does, it's very rare. I'm too much of a problem for him to be willing to deal with. It's a wonder that he's still allowing himself to stoop as low as me. I love Dallon so much, and there's no way he'll want to be with me if I keep throwing my problems at him.

In the midst of all of this, my dad had been nicer because he hadn't been drinking. He said that he was trying to be a better father for me. I think that part of this had to do with the fact that he got to see me happy and meet one of my friends when he was sober. I never had anyone for him to meet before, and even when people were over, they either didn't respect me or he would be drunk, but Dallon was happy and sweet even when my dad was belittling me in front of him. The moment Dallon corrected my dad, it was like a switch flipped, and he realized that he was missing out on spending time with his only child.

I told my dad that I appreciated what he was doing and was proud of him, but then, he went out for drinks. He had told me that he would only have one and that his coworkers wanted to go out for drinks to destress. He definitely had more than one. It was probably more than five, and his way of distressing in the past was to get wasted on hard liquor and hit me. My heart dropped when I heard the garage door open and his car hit the trashcan in the driveway. He was borderline blackout drunk again.

"Brendon, where are you," he slurred. I immediately ran downstairs to be met with his bloodshot eyes. "I-I'm right here," I told him, shaking. His unsteady had reached up and grabbed me by my shirt collar. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as him fist slammed into my eye. "You're the reason your mother left me, Brendon," he spat. I felt tears well up in my eyes. "P-p-please, s-top. I'll h-elp you lay down, okay? Y-you're drunk, Dad," I spoke through my tears as I placed my hand on his back. "Stop it, Brendon! I'm fine. Get to your goddamn room," he shouted, pushing me to the floor. I nodded and went to stand, but he kicked me back down.

"Daddy, st-stop. I-I thought you were better," I whined. He lifted me from the floor by my hair and dragged me up the carpeted stairs to my room. "Stand up, now, Brendon," he yelled. I shakily made my way to my feet. "Why did your mother leave me," he asked. I could see tears in his eyes, and I immediately sympathized. "Answer me, you fucking mistake," he shouted and pushed me backwards, sending me down the stairs. I landed at the bottom in an odd position and felt my ankle flare up in pain when I moved it. "You don't understand," he cried, kicking my side once he'd reached the bottom floor of the house.

"P-please, stop it, D-Daddy. I do u-understand," I begged from my place on the floor. He kept repeating the phrase, kicking me and throwing me around. I was in so much pain that I almost couldn't breathe. My dad took his work boots off and threw them at the wall. One bounced and hit me directly in the face. Then he walked away. He retreated to his bedroom after grabbing a bottle of whiskey from our liquor cabinet.

My chest hurt so badly, and I couldn't move my leg. It was so bad that I couldn't open my eye where the boot had hit me and I tasted blood. I tried my best to stand, but I had to catch myself on the railing of the stairs. Tears were streaking down my face as I made my way to the front door. I wasn't sure where I was going, but I knew I needed to get out of there.

The moment I got outside and down the driveway, I collapsed onto the lawn, spitting blood that had accumulated in my mouth. I wanted to call Dallon, but seeing me like this would only add to the feelings of doubt he had to be having about me. I couldn't lose him. I would revert back to not speaking and being hated by everyone under the sun, while he would be fine. I had never felt so worthless in my entire life.

I just let my head slump down into the grass and closed my eyes.