Creatrix

Chapter 17 - Painful Reality

The house was often a left in a mess; Anika pretty much looked after it alone. Her dad would sometimes clean up after himself when he had pangs of guilt, but they were rare, so Anika did all the jobs. 

She went into his room to change the sheets, and as she pulled back the covers, the urine stench hit her. Disgusting, he’d pissed his bed again! Anika left the sheets there; she shouldn’t have to clean up after him like this, like he was a child and she was an adult. Stuffed down the side of the bed she saw a bottle of scotch, it was half full. Anika’s father arrived home loud and drunk, and caught her in the kitchen tipping the whiskey down the drain. 

 ‘You stupid bitch!’ he slurred, leering at her. ‘I suppose you think you’re smart, don’t you? What do you think you’re doing? Stop that!’  His top lip curled as he looked at her, repulsed. She stood the other side of the table and gripped it in her terror; she knew she was in trouble now. He stood in the doorway so there was no escape. 

 ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘Look Dad, please don’t,’ her eyes welled up.  

 ‘Stop your whimpering; you know I can’t fucking stand it when you cry. You sound pathetic.’  He was threatening, and he had no empathy; the drink always took that away. Now he had caught her throwing away his only pleasure, he was in a rage. He came at her from around the table, she jumped and tried to run around the other side of it, but he blocked the way. 

‘You’re not going anywhere,’ he said,  ‘I’ve got a few things to say to you.’ 

 ‘I don’t want to hear it Dad! I’ve heard enough! You’ve been drinking again, and now you’re hiding it in the house. When are you going to admit you’ve got a problem?’ she said. He jumped at her, grabbed hold of her ponytail, pulled her head down and held it on the table.

She struggled while he pulled her up and slammed her back into the wall.

 ‘Who the hell are you to tell me I’ve got a problem?’  He hollered, spitting in her face. 

‘I’m your daughter!’ she screamed, ‘I have to live with this every day.’

‘Don’t you dare challenge me, missy!’ he spat back at her, ‘you’re a child; you’ve got no right talk to me like that. Now you listen to me…’

She closed her ears and mind; blocked out the obscenities he shouted and hurled about her until the roaring in her own head became unbearable. He wasn’t going to stop. Her own screams shattered into her sanity; her head rang, her vision blurred, and against everything that she was; everything that she believed in, she punched him in the mouth, splitting his lip. 

Stepping back, her tears stopped flowing and her mouth fell open. They paused in complete stillness and their eyes met in their mutual shock. Blood trickled down his face. He wiped it, and then erupted into a rage that threatened to destroy them both. His eyes glazed over, and drowning in his fury, he hit her with the back of his hand, full force, across her face. Anika raised her hand to touch the wound. Her dad backed up against the wall - horrified, hardly believing what he’d done, he crumpled to the cold floor. Pulling her hand away, Anika saw the blood, and screamed. 

She ran to her room, pulled the chair in front of the door and threw herself onto it. She used her pillowcase to soak the blood then looked at the cut in a mirror. Her face was injured, but it was only a surface wound. It would take time to heal and was likely to leave a bruise, but she wouldn’t need it looking at.

She didn’t cry; she was too cold for tears, and she didn’t feel shame - she was glad. Finally, she had fought against his wounding words, she stood up for herself, finally she had shut him up. The house was quiet now and he hadn’t followed her.