To Catch A Dream

Bailey Part Twenty Eight

After I meet with Jonah, I go to the park. I see the endless blanket grass, slightly dewy with water. Screw the water, I think, as I lay down on the grass. My limbs are spread out, and I look at the bright blue sky. People wouldn't even guess it's winter. I wince. My body is still recovering from everything I went through in the last few days. Liquid hot heat spreads through me, and suddenly I'm on fire. I guess all the blows I took was too much for my body to handle. I got abused by my Dad and I managed to get into a fight with the quarterback of the football team. It hurts even more than the time Dad shot me on the arm. Even though it was just a graze, god, it hurt so much.

                        ...

    I wake up in the morning and I smile. I'm turning nine today, almost a decade into my life. I pump my fist into the air. When I manage to stand up, Dad grabs me by the shoulders and drags me into the room that is designated as the "Training room."

    "Daddy, guess what day it is?" I chirp happily.

    "I don't care, and wipe that silly grin off your face," he says.

    Sadness leaks into s@@me, taking over every drop of my blood. I know Daddy doesn't really love me, but this stupid part inside keeps on mustering up hope, that I'm somewhere in his heart, and that he actually cares for me. But every day, after spending time with him, the hope gets shattered, and each time, an insignificant piece of that hope flutters down into darkness, and I'm afraid that after a while all those small pieces will add up and actually matter. Even though after all the things he's done to me, I don't want to lose him. I want to keep believing that he loves me. For my sake. Hope. What a funny thing. It's like an object that is precious to you, and you don't want to lose it, even though you know you have to let it go. Hope. It's a dangerous thing.

Dad pulls out a gun and tells me that this is for my own good. He says that it will get rid of all that softness that is remaining in me. He pulls the trigger. I scream. The last thing I can see is blood, and the dull sensation of the darkness swallowing my broken parts into a black pit.