Broken Home

6

I woke up thrashing around the bed next to Amy and I was covered in sweat. Even though it was freezing at these hours in the morning, I was hot. I ripped my shirt that was pasted to my chest off and over my head and walked over to the window. Looking out over London when it isn't rush hour is fascinating, knowing that they are the same city just at different hours in the day. Dad was there watching mum and her stranger friend in bed and he was crying. Dad walked up to mum and grabbed her by the wrist and ripped her out of bed, violently slapping her cheeks until blood started to drip down her cheek, very slowly. Once they were out of the bedroom, and the door was closed, Dad threw mum against the wall. Mum fell down on the floor in a heap for minutes until I realized she wasn't breathing. Why couldn't I get him out of my head? I thought. I clenched my eyes closed and my fist wrapped around my shirt tightly, trying to contain my anger towards him and mum. My head was spinning with thoughts and I couldn't even tell which ones were real or not real. I opened my eyes and glanced over at Amy, peacefully sleeping. She was so peaceful, and then it all came back to me. How we touched each other. The passion we both had for each other. I have a pang of regret, I didn't use those little silver packets. I could never be a father. I'll turn out like mine.