Strength |✔️

twelve

Alisha

My Dad's smile widens into a sneer. His cold, grey eyes look at me, as if he's judging my skinny body and the weariness on my face, because of my PTSD. The pills are helping with my weight loss, but I don't really know if it's helping with my stress. His eyes rake my body with judgement and look back up to my face.

"Alisha Dave, my daughter," he says. His voice sounds ragged and dried up, as if he was smoking cigarettes. He crosses his arms, which have dozens of tattoos on them. He didn't have tattoos and smoked before my Mom died. "You haven't changed a single bit." I think he said that with sarcasm.

I gulp and look at him, dead straight in the eyes. "You haven't either, Dad." He laughs and says, "what's that supposed to mean?"

I shrug. "It means that you may still be the same murderer that you were back then." I shake my head and chuckle. "I haven't forgotten that you murdered my Mom, Dad." I shake my head again. "Forget Dad, I don't even want to call you that!" I spit at him.

He frowns. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about." I look at him with anger. "When that happened, I-I didn't mean to do it, Alisha." His expression turns to seriousness. "I did it under pressure. I was drunk, I didn't know what I was thinking."

"So you just want me to forget about it?" My voice cracks.

He shakes his head rapidly. "No, Alisha. You can hate me all you want. But just know that, well, I feel bad about it."

I cross my arms. "You should! You committed a murder! You know how serious that is? And how-how did you find me anyways, you stalker?"

He takes a deep breath. "I heard from one of my friends that you went to college here, at UVA." He smiles. "I was so proud of you, hearing that my daughter Is going to one of the best colleges in Virginia."

"Don't call me that."

He frowns. "Call you what?"

"Daughter," I immediately blurt out. "You don't deserve to call me your daughter."

"Alisha," He says, groaning. "I am sorry, okay? I was drunk, I wasn't thinking, and I-"

"Then why did you have the gun in the first place, huh?" I challenge him. "What were you doing with that if you were just 'supposedly drunk?'"

He pauses and frowns. That's what I thought.

I sigh. "Continue what you were telling me before."

"Okay, so... I heard that you went to college in UVA. I live right here, near UVA. And, I just had to meet you. So, this is going to sound creepy, but I searched your phone number up on this website and I tracked your phone. And I saw that you were at this park."

"You stalker!" I slap his chest. "How dare you! You know how freaking creepy that is?"

He nods his head in approval. "Yes, I know it's creepy. But I had to. I had to meet my daughter, I-"

"Don't you dare call me that!"

His eyes suddenly look at me with hatred and grab my hair, yanking me along. I yelp. He grits his teeth. "I tried so hard to be nice to you. I tried to reason. I tried to explain politely." He yanks harder. Tears blur my eyes. "And you just won't stop being a bitch."

I croak out, "Please, stop."

He sneers and chuckles. "Stop my ass." He yanks even harder, grabbing my hair so tightly, I feel like it's about to rip off. "You're a monster," I mumble with anger. His eyes glaze over my face with hatred and he releases my hair and pushes me back, hard. He kicks me on the stomach and I feel pain rushing all over my stomach. I groan in pain and close my eyes, tears swarming out.