The Only Exception

“Just two more hours, kiddo.”My dad Oliver told me, flashing me his best fake smile ever. He squeezed my knee lightly before putting both hands on the wheel. I sighed and put my attention back towards the window.

It's been almost a month since she did it. I'm guessing you're interested in who and why, and even how. My mother killed herself by the oh-so-popular pulling the trigger ordeal. I didn't know where or how she even got the gun, but she managed quite nicely. Why? There wasn't really an answer left behind, just a note:

"Oliver, Braylin, oh how I love you both so much... I'm sorry."

That was all she left, not even a real goodbye. But I didn't blame her for what she did, hell, I probably would have done the same thing if I had a daughter like myself. But all the blame was put on me, and I have been blaming myself ever since she...died. It's still hard to take it all in, so don't rush me.

Oliver didn't know how I felt - but that's because I never told him. I hardly ever spoke anymore. I'd scream and beg whenever I was hit or kicked, but that was about it. Oliver - when he was sober, which was hardly ever except for this car ride, acted as if nothing happened. He would hardly glance at me, and deep down, I thought that he was too guilty to look at what he would do to me.

The beatings - which I adapted that name of, happened mostly after he would get off work. Sometimes I was grateful enough because he wouldn't come home till really late at night, and he wouldn't ever bother me. But then again, going a day or night without a beating was hardly ever.

And now we are moving, on a reason that wasn't even necessary. We didn't need a new start like Oliver said we needed. He wanted to escape out home town of Portland, Oregon because it held too much sake for my mother.

~

La Push. What kind of name was that? One that held a small reservation full of Indians - according to Oliver, who tried to brighten up the mood. Fail. I'm not so sure why Oliver picked this place - out of all the other places in the world, he had chosen some nowhere zone. Maybe he wanted to move here to plan my real suffering. I shook that off for now.

Soon we passed a sign that said, "Welcome To Forks." Oliver chuckled over the name of the town we were heading in to, but I did nothing. "We have to drive through town to get there." Oliver answered my inner thoughts. I inwardly rolled my eyes and kept my stare out of the window.

We began to pass a bunch of trees that I later figured out was the forest in La Push. The colors were so different here. It had that deep brown color everywhere, whereas in Forks, it was a much lighter color and different atmosphere. The people walking around the small place looked almost alike. Very tan. I couldn't help but to compare Forks, with La Push.

I gasped quietly to myself as we passed a beach. I'd never been to a beach before, there was nothing like this backhome. But as soon we passed the beach, over in the distance was what I believed to be a cliff. And on that cliff were a bunch of tall muscular tan men taking turns at jumping off. My heart stopped as they landed into the water. It soon began again and I sighed relief as I watched them float to the surface smiling.

For some strange reason, cliff diving seemed to be a great rush. And now I was more than willing to try it out. But that would have to wait awhile as I got used to this place. At least seven minutes passed before Oliver had pulled into a rocky driveway. The movers must have already done their job because they weren't here. Great, less work for me.

"Let's get the stuff out and in the house, kid. There isn't much to get, so go and unpack." Oliver said monotonously. I sighed, soon he'd be at breaking point.

I brought in the last few things of mine up to my new room and felt completely relieved. Everything was there, and now I'd just need to decorate the walls and put things away. I pulled out my however many posters I had and taped them all over my walls. I hadn't noticed until I began to put my clothes away, that I started school tomorrow. Shoot I thought.

My head snapped over to the door as a loud crash came from below. Dropping what I was doing I left my room and crept down the stairs. I peeked around the corner to find my dad shaking in anger and looking at the floor. I looked too and found boxes full of kitchen supplies everywhere. I bit my lip as I took a last step to the floor.

"I just - can't believe -" Oliver gasped between his words. Then he turned to me with a menacing glare abroad his crimson red face. It all happened too fast, then. The loud clap rang through my ears and the stinging feeling never left my left cheek.

I shook my head as my eyes watered, and I backed up to the stairs. Oliver grabbed a heavy metal pan and chucked it in my direction. I let out a painful cry as it hammered against my waist, a bruise would form quickly enough.

"You know, your mother was perfect." He spat at me. I winced and cowered myself up in the small corner behind me. Oliver came closer and reached out for me.

"Daddy, I'm sorry." I whispered. I didn't think that he'd go this berserk this soon, I was more scared than ever before. He wasn't think crazy - or he could be. He grabbed me by my hair and tossed me on the kitchen floor. I begged him not to, but it was too late. A hard kick was sent into my stomach, and then one on my side.

"Me too." He muttered, almost sincerely but not. He pulled me up onto my feet where I wobbled from my own imbalance. Another slap across the face, and then a shove towards the ground. My head hit the side of the dishwasher and before I could really maintain anything, everything had gone black.