Falling Apart

Chapter 20

“Daddy,” I say tiredly but happily, seeing Matt in the living room in our trailer. I run to him, my bare feet pattering against the ground. The boys chuckle at me and he picks me up.
“Hey, baby,” he says and kisses my cheek.
“Lizzie, shouldn't you be in bed? It’s 11, you fell asleep hours ago,” 13 year old Nick smirks.
“No, I was waiting for daddy,” I say calmly and rest my head on Matt's shoulder.
“Betty,” he says softly. “It’s Matt, okay? Your brother. Daddy's… somewhere.” I see him and Nick change looks.
“Daddy,” I say to him.
“Matt,” he corrects me. He doesn't sound mad or disappointed or anything. He strokes my hair softly.
I hide my face into his shoulder. “Daddy,” I say quietly. I feel him sigh, but he doesn't start arguing, just kisses my head.
“Dude, just admit it. It's cute. There’s no way you can shake that name off, she’s been calling you that from ever since she could talk,” Nick says.
Matt just sighs. “Come on, baby, let's put you back to bed,” he tells me and kisses my cheek, stroking my hair at the same time.
“I'm not tired,” I pout and look at him.
“Yes, you are. Say goodnight Nicky.”
I sigh and look at Nick, who is smiling softly. “Night Nicky.”
“Night,” he smiles.
“The twins are sleeping?” Matt asks, starting to sway with me a little, my eyelids getting heavier.
“Yeah, nothing can interrupt them from sleeping,” he says.
I feel Matt chuckle quietly and then he walks to all of our room. We have a big mattress where Nick and the twins sleep and then a couch where me and Matt have to fit. It's not that hard as I'm 4 and he 16.
He places me on the bed (couch) and steps away. I start crying, not feeling his touch anymore. “Daddy,” I cry.
“Okay, okay. Shh, I'm just changing my clothes, okay?” he whispers and kisses my forehead, making me calm down. He changes into his pajamas rapidly and walks to the door. “Nick. Come to sleep,” he says a little more loudly.
“I'll wait dad,” he says back.
“Come sing to her. Please,” he says. Nick sighs and comes here, squatting next to the couch as Matt comes next to me and I snuggle myself into his chest and stomach full of bruises and cuts.
Nick starts singing to me quietly while Matt strokes my hair. A loud bang comes, the front door. I flinch and open my eyes to look at the boys. Nick rapidly gets in his bed as he's already in his pajamas.
“It’s okay baby,” Matt whispers. “We’re all okay.”
“Promise?” I whisper, terrified of the noises.
“I promise.”
My eyes shot open and I sit up rapidly. My alarm clock says it's 2am. Every fucking Christmas. I sigh and lie back down. Hot Dog licks my face tiredly, so I kiss her wet black nose, hug my stuffed elephant tighter and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fall back asleep.

I walk into the kitchen, head lowered down, not to meet my father's eyes. I sit down between Nick and Jake and look at the food in front of me. Potatoes. I just saw a movie how people ate good things like ice cream and burgers. I only get ice cream when Matt has some money after he pays for the house and the clothes and some food. I gulp and take my fork to slowly make them into small pieces so it would go down better.
“Elizabeth,” my father says between his teeth. I look up at him with the same pouty face and then back at the plate. A sharp pain hits my cheek. My head shoots up. He just slapped me. The boys all tensed up and are looking at me worriedly, but we all still look back at our plates. I see blood dropping on my potato, so I place my fork down and look up just a little. He is eating, so I should have the chance to go before he notices.
I quietly stand up, but he pulls me back down. “You're not  going anywhere before you finish this.”
“But it's-“ I get another hard slap, making Matt stand up furiously and come to me.
“Come on baby, let's clean you up,” he says softly, picking me up. I wrap my arms and legs around him emotionlessly and dad punches him in the face, making me hide my face into his neck. He doesn't show any emotions either, just looks at the boys warningly for a moment and takes me out of the room, into the small bathroom. He sits me on the toilet lid and takes some medicine with a cotton pad.
“It's gonna hurt a little,” he murmurs to me and starts cleaning it. I don't even wince, just close my eyes and let him do it.
“Doesn’t it hurt?” he asks softly after he's done. I give him a small nod, keeping my eyes shut. “Then why aren't you showing any pain?”
“If I show anything, I'll get more hurt, Matty,” I say quietly.
My eyes go open and I start crying quietly. It's 4am. No. Fall back asleep.