My life.

12. Over.

Past:
To put it simply. My dad was an alcoholic. And I didn't care.

When my mom went to work, my dad was left to care for me and my sister. Everything was okay until my dad started acting weird. You know how retarded people (Is that the right word? If it isn't can someone please tell me so I can change it! Please! I'm not trying to be rude!) act when their hands go kinds of floppy, their mouth to the side. He was just like that.
"M/N" he mumbled.
"Yeah..." He stood up looking lopsided.
"I-I need to- I need to go to sleep" I nodded, not saying a word and took to the staircase. He shook his head violently and I watch his hands twitch occasionally.
"No-no not there. T-that's your moms b-bedroom"
I'll admit the sight made me scared.
"O-okay" I whispered, now taking him to his mattress on the floor in my living room and laying him down. He didn't say anything and just grunted. The scene brought tears to my eyes, however I didn't cry. I just walked away.

Later when he woke up, he began to pack his things.
"Where are you going?" I asked casually.
"I have to leave" he said shuffling around packing things quickly. In odder and turned around. There was no point arguing with him. My sister on the other hand bawled her eyes out.
"M/N Have you seen my shoes?" He asked me.
"No!" I replied.
"Oh baby!" My dad cooed as he picked my sister up holding her close.
"Why are you crying?" I made the sound a cat makes when it tries to get a fur ball out.
"Why wouldn't she?" I spat as I threw his shoes which I found upstairs down at him.
"You haven't even been here for 24 hours and your already leaving" I turned round and stomped upstairs. Now don't think for a second! That I actually care what he does and when he does it. What I do cares about though. Is my sister. And NO ONE makes her cry! But me of course...

My father followed me upstairs and pulled me into my room where he sat down on my sisters bed, me standing in front of him with my arms crossed.
"What's wrong?" He asked. I rolled my eyes.
"I just said" he chuckled.
"No, but what's really wrong" he smiled.
"I just to you!" I raised my voice and turned round when he caught my arm.
"Where are you going?"
"To get some tropical juice. I'm thirsty" he shook his head.
"No no. We're not done yet, the drink can wait."
"Yes we are, no it can't and don't" I snatched my arm from his grip.
"Touch me" and with that I turned and went downstairs To make some juice and sit by my computer to scroll aimlessly through Twitter.

A couple of minutes later my father came down, pulled a chair out from under the dinning table and sat sideways facing me as I stared at the screen. I grew uncomfortable under his gaze and snapped.
"What?"
"Tell me what's wrong"
"NOTHING WRONG!!!" I shouted.
"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" Taking my juice I went up and once again stayed isolated in my room until my alcoholic father left.
And 3 months later to this very day. He's only called, twelve times...
_______________________
Present:
And all of this leads up to this very day. Though on the day the first episode of Dr.who series eight aired and I went to watch it at the cinema with my friend, near therms I was told by my mom via Facebook that my jackass of a father had driven from reading to where I live absolutely and utterly pissed out of his mind so he had to crash at our house 😡😡😡
I slept over my friends house that night and he was gone by morning... I have this gut feeling however that there is more to come...