The Only Exception

"Daddy, guess what!" I cheerfully asked as I skipped my way over to my father's lap.

He laughed and said, "What?" I climbed my little body up and onto his lap and smiled up at him.

"I finally have come to my senses!" And of course, at five years old, I only said words that I had heard my mother and father say - or yell to each other.

"Oh, really now? And can you tell me how?" My dad chuckled as he muted the channel that he was currently watching.

"I think that it's time that I go to school." My father's eyes widened and he began to chuckle.

"And why is that?"

I rolled my eyes and gave a childish groan, "Because, Daddy, if I don't go how will I ever get as smart as you and mommy?"

Chuckling, he kissed my cheek and said, "You're too young for school, sweet cheeks." I gave him a small pout and crossed my little arms.

"That's not fair."

He sighed, "How about I make a promise with you, alright?" And already my smile had reappeared on my face. "How about when you turn six, your mother and I will sign you up for kindergarten?"

I gasped and covered my little mouth, "Really?!" I cheered between a muffle.

"Yes, really." I swung my arms around my father's neck and gave him the biggest hug that I could.

"Oh, thank you daddy! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

My dad chuckled and said, "You're welcome, kiddo." Kissing my cheek, my father let me sit on his lap and watch the television with him, both of us cheering when his favorite team got a point.

Why couldn't things still be the way they were? Why'd she do it in the first place?

-

"Dad, why are you and Mom fighting again?" I peered around the corner of the family room one night, finding my father on his laptop finishing up some work. He sighed and shook his head. I was now fourteen and the fighting still went on. It was getting worse, all the time and I didn't know what I was supposed to do.

"Not now, Bray." He answered, never taking his eyes off of the screen. I let out a groan and began to walk away. "She lost her job last week." My dad called from the other room. I turned around and walked back into the room.

"What? Why?" He shrugged his shoulders.

"That's all I'm saying, Bray. Now go to bed." He waved me off, but gave me a decent, loving smile. I sighed and made my way back up to my room, and when I passed my parent's room, I could hear my mother crying.

My eyes flashed open and had I had to let them adjust to the dark room. I was still on the couch, I could feel myself on it, and I could hear mumbling coming from the office. Since when did Oliver use an office? Throwing some blanket off of my legs I got up and tip-toed over to the corner and watched as Oliver fiddled around in there.

The office had only a desk, computer and chair in there. Boxes were still in there from the move and I randomly wondered why he hadn't unpacked and of those things. But as I got a closer look as to what was in the boxes, I felt my heart sink. And I knew that Oliver was in there for a reason, looking for something. Until he found her belongings.

Four boxes had her name written in black bolded letters; Mom. Trisha. My heart sank even deeper into the pit of my stomach as I remembered her face in my head. Her beautiful blue eyes, warm smile. I adored her long black hair, it was just like mine - beautiful.

"Oliver? Are you okay -" I began.

"Come on, now, Braylin. Dammit why do you have to make everything so hard?" I gasped and slapped my hand over my chest. Oliver was only standing mere inches from me.

"Wh - what?" I whispered. Oliver came closer as he shook his head, tsking at my confusion.

"It's all your fault - it was never mine. You were too stressful for your mother, and I only put up with you for her, because I loved her." He gave me a knowing smirk, he knew he was getting to me. I know he saw the tears begin to spring from my eyes, I know he watched and it didn't faze him one bit.

"But, Dad -"

A loud popping sound shuttered near my left ear and my left cheek began to tingle from the slap. "What did I say about calling me that?"

"I'm sorry," I cowered away which made him laugh. Why was he blaming me? He and my mother were the ones always fighting, I always stayed in the background so I wasn't pulled into their arguments that sometimes involved a slap or two.

"Why, Braylin?" His voice drowned out when I was flung back into a small table that held a lamp. I struggled to get up but couldn't even in the slightest, try. I let out a gasp of pain when he kicked me in the stomach, and then again, and again.

"Oliver stop! Please, I'm sorry!" I cried as I dragged myself away from his oncoming figure. Once his face hit the light of the moon shining through the window I began to cry harder at his horrible, hideous angered facial expression.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Sweet cheeks." Grabbing me by my hair and yanked me up partially as he dragged me into the kitchen. When he dropped me I let out a groan of horrendous pain, and that only made Oliver more mad. Again, I struggled to my feet as he waited for me to do so. And once I was on my feet, struggling to keep my balance, his fist went straight at my mouth. His brass ring did a favor of cutting my lip open and I could taste the metallic blood in my mouth.

"Oliver - please!" I begged. He was getting worse by the second, charging at me at every moment that he could. And when he went in for another hit, I dodged it and flung myself near the front door. I struggled to open it, staring back frantically as he shook his head and came closer.

"Don't you dare leave, Braylin."

"I - I have to." I mumbled while swinging open the door and skipping the steps as I ran towards the forest.