Daddy's Little Darlings
Bruises
I hate my dad.
He's never loved me and Danny, not really. He's pretended to, pretended to love Mum, but he never has. Sometimes, I wonder why he agreed to marry Mum and settle down and raise me and Danny. He's not very good at it.
Mum says Dad was a good man, before he turned to the drink. He just did, one day, and since then, he's made our lives Hell. I'm not suprised Mum wants to escape. We all do. It's not fair on Mum. He's made her cry, made her bleed, put her in a hospital bed because she was so badly bruised she couldn't move. Mum blamed it on the ice-she said she slipped. When she got home, Dad said she slipped, alright. She slipped up on being perfect, and Dad only settles for the best. He's far from perfect himself. He wants me and Danny and Mum to be a certain way. He wants Mum to be one of these trophy wives, with blonde hair and a big kitchen and a cosmetic-surgery smile. He wants Danny to be a jock who plays football and wins all the trials on Sport's Day. He wants me to be a smily, sunny, happy cheer-leader girl who will stay his little girl forever. I am a disappointment. I am small and skinny and pale, with black hair, scared green eyes and a generally depressed, sad nature. I can't help it. It's just the way I am, which will never be good enough.
Somedays, I wish that we could be the perfect family for him, so he wouldn't lash out and lose control. Other days, I want to run away, to shake some sense into Mum. I don't blame her, but she won't do anything about it.
" He'll change," she'll say. " He'll stop drinking. It's not his fault."
My mum has a great imagination. I wish I did, so I could really believe that it will all get better. I guess I'm more sensible. I know the truth. It will never get better, unless we run away and start a new life.
I have run away before. They found me, and Dad gave me a big hug and said never to scare him like that again. That was in front of the police. At home, he raged and stormed at me, and hit Mum, saying she raised me to be like this. I cried then. Not because I was scared. I was guilty. It was my fault that my mum was bleeding, that her lips were so swollen she couldn't speak. I said sorry and said I was a mistake and that I should never have been born. Dad would have agreed, but by that time, he was at the pub, drinking away his anger until we all slipped up again and it came spilling out of nowhere.
Dad has never hit me, or Danny. It's just Mum he lashes out on. One day, he'll hurt her so much, he will kill her. Manslaughter. Dad's not a man. He's a monster.
At school, I put on a false happy act, and I am,most of the time. It's just when I get home. That's the worst part.
The place where I am supposed to feel safe makes me feel like I am in danger.
He's never loved me and Danny, not really. He's pretended to, pretended to love Mum, but he never has. Sometimes, I wonder why he agreed to marry Mum and settle down and raise me and Danny. He's not very good at it.
Mum says Dad was a good man, before he turned to the drink. He just did, one day, and since then, he's made our lives Hell. I'm not suprised Mum wants to escape. We all do. It's not fair on Mum. He's made her cry, made her bleed, put her in a hospital bed because she was so badly bruised she couldn't move. Mum blamed it on the ice-she said she slipped. When she got home, Dad said she slipped, alright. She slipped up on being perfect, and Dad only settles for the best. He's far from perfect himself. He wants me and Danny and Mum to be a certain way. He wants Mum to be one of these trophy wives, with blonde hair and a big kitchen and a cosmetic-surgery smile. He wants Danny to be a jock who plays football and wins all the trials on Sport's Day. He wants me to be a smily, sunny, happy cheer-leader girl who will stay his little girl forever. I am a disappointment. I am small and skinny and pale, with black hair, scared green eyes and a generally depressed, sad nature. I can't help it. It's just the way I am, which will never be good enough.
Somedays, I wish that we could be the perfect family for him, so he wouldn't lash out and lose control. Other days, I want to run away, to shake some sense into Mum. I don't blame her, but she won't do anything about it.
" He'll change," she'll say. " He'll stop drinking. It's not his fault."
My mum has a great imagination. I wish I did, so I could really believe that it will all get better. I guess I'm more sensible. I know the truth. It will never get better, unless we run away and start a new life.
I have run away before. They found me, and Dad gave me a big hug and said never to scare him like that again. That was in front of the police. At home, he raged and stormed at me, and hit Mum, saying she raised me to be like this. I cried then. Not because I was scared. I was guilty. It was my fault that my mum was bleeding, that her lips were so swollen she couldn't speak. I said sorry and said I was a mistake and that I should never have been born. Dad would have agreed, but by that time, he was at the pub, drinking away his anger until we all slipped up again and it came spilling out of nowhere.
Dad has never hit me, or Danny. It's just Mum he lashes out on. One day, he'll hurt her so much, he will kill her. Manslaughter. Dad's not a man. He's a monster.
At school, I put on a false happy act, and I am,most of the time. It's just when I get home. That's the worst part.
The place where I am supposed to feel safe makes me feel like I am in danger.