Trapped

One

"FUCK YOU!" I screamed and slammed my bedroom door shut. Through tears I quickly locked and barricaded my door with me and my sister, Bailey, safely inside. You never know my dad could try and do to us when he's this drunk. Which is often, most nights really.

He's had a drinking problem as long as I can remember. Mom as well. My mom walked out on us 9 years ago now, leaving my dad to raise me and my little sister alone, not that much raising was being done. He went into a state of depression and self loathing and paid little attention to us and our needs. I was just 9 years old and Bailey was 3. I taught myself to do the laundry and make meals. I did most of the grocery shopping and made sure we had clothes to wear for school. I walked my sister to day care each day on my way to school and picked her up at the end of the day.

I rarely spoke to my father as he spent most of his time away from us at bars, or just in his room drinking alone. It didn't matter the time of day, he drank as often as he had booze in the bottle. Half the time I wondered where he found the money for it all, since we could barely scrape by for necessities. As I got older I realized he probably got it from the whores he met at the bars.

Over the years it hasn't gotten better. Alcohol is his addiction. The first warning should have been that he named me Hennessey and my sister Bailey. But when he's drunk there's no telling what he might say or do to us. I've been cut and bruised by empty bottles being thrown too many times to accurately count. My self image and confidence has been demolished by him calling me worthless, a mistake, wasted space, cussing at me, etc.

We have no contact whatsoever with my mother. She could be dead or halfway across the globe for all I know. Oddly enough her lack of presence in my life didn't much phase me. My sadness and anger rooted in the fact that my dad didn't care about us. My mother was a lost cause, the reality of the matter was there wasn't anything we could do to get her to come back. My primary focus was making sure my sister could live the best life possible, since I couldn't she should at least be able to. I did and still do all I can to protect her from my father and help her through life.

Tonight my father had too much to drink again and his screams toward me and my sister were slurred. He said a lot of things to me that probably should have hurt, but none of them phased me much at this point. I've grown used to his insults and they meant little to me anymore. But then he started threatening Bailey, telling her she's useless and calling her a burden to the family. Saying she's better off dead, and that he could take care of that. I grew furious with him and ran to my room with my sister close behind. He can say what he wants to me, but what he said to Bailey drunken or not, is disgusting and I won't take it. Usually he lets her alone and only goes after me, I'm unsure why he chose to bitch at her tonight.

Bailey spent the night in my room and all we heard from my father the rest of the night was drunken rambling and the crash of empty bottles being broken against the wall. The only feelings I felt anymore was utter anger and hatred toward my father, and a deep guilt that I wasn't doing enough to help Bailey out of the awful situation that is our life. I can't remember the last time I really smiled or felt happiness. But I'm never really sad, just frustratingly numb to pain. My expectations are too low for me to be let down anymore.

I don't feel like I'm living, just surviving the days as they pass.