Avogado6 Short Stories

My dangerous father

They all kept telling me that he was a bad man. A dangerous man. They still do till this day. They believe that I'm too young to grasp the full gravity of what happened that day. They don't know the whole story though...

My father was known as the man everyone feared.  He would get these looks of anxiety and intimidation wherever he went; even when simply walking down the sidewalk of our own street. He was a gym rat, almost to the extreme, had full sleeves and even more tattoos scattered about, and had wound scars all about his body. 

I only learned what the scars originated from when I was about 7. I had finally gathered up the courage to ask him, and he was hesitant to answer me at first, but eventually gave in. 

"Okay, I'll tell you, but do not speak of this to anyone, alright? Can I trust you?"

"I promise"

"Pinky Promise?"

"Pinky Promise."

He told me that his father used to beat him when he was a child, and the scars never got the chance to heal. It was evident that those memories were painful for him. His voice started to get shaky, his dark eyebrows were furrowed, and his lip started quivering slightly as he spoke.

"I don't want to see the same thing happen to you, baby. I love you too much. Do you understand?"

"Yes, daddy." 

I had started crying. I felt a pain in my chest and soreness in my throat. It hurt me to think that he went through something like that. He wiped my cheeks and hugged me. 

"You don't have to cry, baby. It's okay."

"I love you, daddy"

"I love you too... I swear I won't let anyone hurt you..."

It must have been quite a sight whenever he took me out. This tough and buff dude walking down the street, one hand holding the hand of a bright little girl in pigtails, the other hand holding a small, brightly colored backpack with a mermaid in the front. 

He always made time for me, no matter what. Not many people would expect that though, being that, again, he was a gym rat. People often theorized on how he did that, though. All of them, of course, was absolutely ridiculous and far-fetched. A typical school day was fairly simple: He would workout whilst I was at school for about 5 hours, then jog for about an hour, then pick me up from school. From there, we had lunch, then we drove to a different gym that was child-friendly. We spend about 2-3 hours there, then go back home, have dinner, then he would send me to bed. 

The routine at that gym was finishing my homework, then hanging out with my dad, following him for the rest of the day. The staff had a separate room so that the kids could hang out there, but I didn't like staying there for a long time, and for good reasons. My dad found out what those reasons were after a few months, and it would cost him his life...

Cut to the present: I'm an adult, 20 now. I sat by his grave, reminiscing. Five years ago, I wouldn't have even come here. I still hadn't gotten over him, nor had I forgiven.  After my dad eventually found the truth, he was filled with rage and punched the man. Little did he know, that punch would be a fatal one. My dad was found guilty of involuntary manslaughter and was given the death sentence. I held a grudge against everyone in that jury for the longest time. Who could blame me though? My father was the only thing I had left. 

He didn't deserve this. He was only trying to protect me. Had I continued to stay silent, who knows what that man would have done to me? Five years ago, I found myself thinking back and asking myself, maybe if I had never said anything, he wouldn't have died. I've completely stopped that, though. Still, I feel bad for everything that happened. I know I shouldn't be blaming myself, especially after all this time, but I do. I can't help it. I know better, though. That man shouldn't have done what he did. Not to me, not to those other girls. He ultimately got what he deserved

I rubbed my fairly fresh tattoo on my wrist and lightly traced it with my thumb. It was a tarantula, dedicated to my dad.  I believe it captures him perfectly. The intimidation and fear that one gets when around one, when really, it's a silly thing to be scared of- a harmless furry ball with eight legs. Scary but harmless- the very essence of his being.