A Little Hope

2. Letting You Go

"Did I do something wrong to make you go? Said, I would know when it's all good to fall. Now, I just need you here to hold me close."
~ Chelsea Cutler

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It hurt. Everything hurt. She was actually gone. I was now alone. Completely and utterly alone. Dad was getting worse and I became Justin's favorite punching bag.

I already dealt with all this before but I had her. She would hold me until I stopped crying. She would make everything okay. But now she was gone. She was gone and there nothing I could do about it. I didn't have her new address or her phone number. She probably did it on purpose. Did I make her mad or something? I must've because she promised to never leave. But instead, she left without even saying goodbye...

The days were a blur. I didn't bother going to school. I couldn't bring myself out of this deep hole let alone my bed. My bedroom was my safe place. Dad never came in here. Mommy had decorated it when I was a baby. I could sense her all around me. She loved Winnie the Pooh and she made it her mission to decorate my nursery with it. I had a frilly yellow curtain with Pooh bears on it. My walls were a pastel yellow and my dresser was a rustic white. I still had my toy box filled with all my old toys. My bed was filled with my stuffies. I had so many you couldn't see the yellow sheets and comforter underneath it.

My mother had left her imprint in this room. Dad missed her and never came in here specifically for that reason. This room was the only place I was ever safe.

"Savannah!!! Get your ass down here," my father screamed at the bottom of the stairs.

I quickly hid Winnie under the bed to keep him safe and ran down the stairs. My father was home. This was a first. Lately, he had been at the bar drinking and getting laid. I wasn't complaining. He left me alone and I got my body to myself.

I reached the bottom of the stairs to find him standing there with his arms crossed and his foot tapping the floor. His glasses made his eyes look small and beady. They were black, like the darkness in his soul, and they showed the apathy inside of them. His hair was black as well which stood out against his horribly white pasty skin. He was dressed in his black slacks and loafers. He was wearing a blue polo shirt with a belt. Any normal person would think he was a respectable middle-aged man. But then again, you can never judge someone based on their appearance...

"The school called Savannah. They said you've been absent for the past two weeks. Care to explain yourself?" He asked with a hard expression.

"I...I've been sick," I responded making sure my eyes stayed glued to the floor. I'm not allowed to look directly at him when I'm nothing but trash.

"I don't give a fuck if your arm has been chopped off and you're bleeding out. You go to school every day, you understand? How do you think this makes me look?" He asked with his voice rising more and more by the second.

I started to shake with fear as I gave a simple head nod. He came closer and tilted my chin up towards him. "That's a yes, sir," he growled at me.

"Y-yes..."

He gripped my chin tightly, "Yes what?".

"Y-yes, sir!"

He let go and pushed me onto the couch so I landed face down. "I think it's time I taught you a little lesson about respect," he said taking off his belt. "And since you want to use that pretty little mouth of yours to backtalk, I'll have you use it for a better purpose."