Love Always, Ella

Chapter Three

Ella

March 6th, 2016

I don't think anyone understands how hard it is to watch someone you love be controlled by something as stupid as alcohol. It's hard for me to accept the fact that my own father would rather have liquor over his own child. How am I supposed to feel like I'm worth anything when a drink is more important than me?

I remember the night I first realized that liquor owned you, dad. I was only ten, and you should have known better than to come home piss drunk at four in the morning. I heard dishes shattering from my room, and then I heard the yelling. Mom was crying because she didn't want me to hear, and you kept screaming back at her that I wouldn't know any better. Little did you know, dad, that I had my ear pressed up against the wood of that door listening to every single word you said.

Mom kept crying and begged you to just go upstairs to bed, but you didn't want to. You just kept screaming at her to shut up and stop crying until you finally lost it, the sound of that slap echoing all the way up those stairs. If I had known any better I would have stayed right in my bedroom, but I bolted down into the kitchen to see mom huddled in the corner by the stove. You were standing over her, nostrils flaring and fists clenched as she cried.

The both of you saw me, and mom started to cry harder when she realized I now knew what you did to her. All I could do was stand there in shock, the tears seeming to be frozen in place behind my eyes. You looked so scary, dad. You didn't look like yourself.

You started to mutter some cuss words under your breath before you flung more dishes off of the countertop, all of them breaking once they fell to the floor. I was shaking in fear then when you looked at me, hatred in your eyes. Then you proceeded to scream that it was my fault you broke those dishes. I shouldn't have come downstairs. I should have just stayed quiet.

You tell mom that I probably just wanted another snack and that it's mom's fault that I'm overweight. I never thought I was fat, but you made me put my head down in shame that day to examine my stomach and my arms. I was only ten, dad. You made me begin to feel worthless at the age of ten, and for that, I will never be able to forgive you.

~

Jess called a couple of days ago because she felt bad about the night at the bonfire last week, and to make up for it she invited me to go with her to watch a game of basketball some guys were playing at the park. I did everything in my power to come up with excuses as to why I couldn't go, but after she reassured me for the billionth time that Rosie and her friends wouldn't be there I finally gave in.

I get into the passenger seat of Jess's yellow punch bug as soon as it pulls into the driveway, the heat from the leather immediately burning the back of my thighs. It's almost a hundred degrees outside, the sweat already starting to trickle down the back of my neck.

"Hey!" Jess says excitedly, sending me a wide grin. "I'm so glad you're coming with me today."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because you're finally going to meet Nina!" She exclaims. "She's with some of her friends at the park watching a couple of guys from school play basketball. I told her we'd meet her there and then we can go grab some ice cream or something."

I arch my eyebrow up and send her a smile as if I'm interested when in reality I'm trying to figure out why on earth people would want to run for fun. "So, guys just play basketball to play? In this heat?"

"I guess so." She shrugs, shoving a couple of chips into her mouth. One hand of hers is on the steering wheel while the other keeps digging in and out of the plastic bag on her console. She offers me some, but I turn her down. I need to watch what I eat.