Saving Athena ✓

9) Secrets

A t h e n a

(Tw: violence, alcoholism, domestic abuse)

I think if anything, I would love to live on the moon and converse with the stars.

I peek up at the sky, it's pitch black with the stars coating the sky like glitter, I smile at the moon and look straight ahead, it's freezing, the air hits me and makes me tremble as I tuck my hands deeper into my sweater.

A man approaches in front of me, his clothes are ragged and he slightly trembles. "Maam, please," he holds his hands out. "Do you have cigarettes?" I shake my head softly, mumbling a "no" but that simply won't do, he pleads again. "Please, please just one."

I reach in my bag and hand him five dollars, I hope he won't use it for cigarettes but he shakes his head and doesn't take the money. "I don't have cigarettes, please take this." I usher for him to take it but he shakes his head again, a frown etches his face as he walks away from me. I frown too.

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I furrow my brows at my dad's shoes in the mudroom, at first I think it isn't his but it is. I carefully creak open the door and catch sight of his coat on the couch. I walk into my room and smile when I see him on my bed, a photo frame in his hands.

"Hey, dad," I smile, leaning against the doorframe, he gets up and comes over, hugging me tightly and I laugh against him. "I didn't know you were coming home."

"I got a free day, decided to come home for a bit," I smile and pull away, catching sight of the frame in his hand, it's the photo of him, mom, and I that I found in the box. "Where did you get this?"

"I- um found it," I murmur, he nods. Embarrassment eats at my insides as he walks away and into the kitchen. I set my bag down onto the hook and take my sweater off as I follow him. "Are you hungry?" I ask, walking into the kitchen. "We have leftovers, maybe some take-out? We can order."

"Leftovers are fine," he replies, I nod. Getting the pots out of the cupboard and placing them on the stove, I grab the Tupperware and pour the food into the pans before turning to him.

"How long are you gonna stay for? There's so much I want to do, they have the fair coming up-"

"I'm only staying for two days, Athena," he interrupts, I bite my lip and nod sadly before stirring around the food. I pour it into plates for us and place it in front of him. I sit down and pick at the food.

"Where did you go?" I ask in-between bites of food.

"Usual, Kendrick, Winston."

"You seem tired," I tilt my head. "If you're tired, you can sleep. I know your job isn't easy, you don't have to stay with me." I think I was hoping for him to say 'no, I wanna spend time with my daughter that I don't see' but he nods, leaving his plate, he says he has to go to the store so the slam of the door is the last thing I hear.

I clean both of our dishes, along with the kitchen and he still isn't home by the time I finish. I sigh and get ready for bed, I stay up for a bit to see if he'll come home, hoping that we can watch our favorite movie or make late-night pancakes like we used to when I was seven.

He doesn't.

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The sound of glass has me jolting awake as I clutch the blanket to my chest. At first, I thought it's a dream but it isn't, the sound is too close. It's my dad. I carefully peel the covers off of me and walk to the door. I clutch the handle carefully and step out.

Dad's sprawled out on the couch, an alcohol bottle on his chest, a broken one on the ground, and one in his hand, dangling off the couch. I cover my mouth with my hand and take a deep breath. "Dad?" I muster to call out. "Dad, wake up."

He makes a groaning sound but doesn't get up, his eyes open and he mutters under his breath as he looks at me. "Dad, how did you buy these?"

"Your check," he mumbles. My breath hitches in my throat, the check I got from work, the one I was saving up, he went and spent it on alcohol. I scoff and walk closer as I rip the whiskey bottle from his hand.

That his him on his feet in no time as he scowls and balls his fists out, he charges for me and I feel a rush of adrenaline as the bottle slips from my hand and demolishes on the ground, the shards of glass rip into my feet, I gasp in pain as I feel my crusade crumble from beneath me. I look up at him just in time as his fist raises, he bashes me in the face.

My head spins, my body turns as I fall to the ground, completely landing with a slam that has me wailing out in pain. My body feels like it's on fire, like someone poured kerosene on me and lit a match.

I raise my hands to cover my face but it's no use he grips my neck in a gruesome hold as he lifts me up, my feet near dangling. I gasp and feel the air escape me as I hold his hands in an attempt to get them off of me. He applies pressure until I feel my legs go numb, that's when he finally releases me and sends me hurling to the ground.

"This is your fault!" He screams, voice breaking and I take in all the air I can possibly get. "You made your mother leave me!"

"Dad- d- please-" My pleads are cut short when he takes his combat boots and slams his foot into my ribcage, I scream, feeling something crack as the color leaves my face.

"You piece of shit mistake," he decries. "You took my wife away! You're the reason for this! For all of it!"

I stay quiet, there's no end to pain.

I watch as he walks off, I hear the slamming and smashing of cabinets, opening, and closing of doors. I stay quiet, almost breathless as he comes back. He takes one last swig of the bourbon bottle before he lets it fall to the ground with ease.

"I wish you were never born," he states one last time before leaving, the door closes with a bang. I try to move but I can't it hurts, it hurts too much to even breathe. My pain is a river for me to drown in.

I pass out with the pain of ripping my family apart.

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