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A Safe Haven
My palms were shaking as I twisted that doorknob. I slowly creaked open the door, hoping to avoid any collisions with my father before I slipped off to go shower. No sign of him so far, which was odd. I successfully made it to the bathroom. I absolutely despised our shower, though. It took years to heat up to a decent temperature.
I didn’t want to leave the comfort of the warm water, though I had to because the water heater was old, and the hot water wouldn’t last forever. The moment I switched off the shower, the eerie quiet that filled my ears gave me chills, along with the cold air that touched my skin. I shook the feeling off as I dried my soaking wet body.
The second I stepped out of that bathroom, I knew something was wrong. Everything was dark. No lights were on, and I felt alone. Goosebumps covered my arms. Something was definitely wrong. My father was nowhere to be seen. In this house, it was an impossible feat to even walk through the front door, let alone do anything inside without being bombarded by the scent of alcohol under his breath. And that horrible yell he throws at you if you do even just one, insignificant thing that displeases him in any way.
I stood there in silence, waiting for something to happen, but it stayed silent. My body began to shake with terror, and I collapsed onto the floor. What was going on here? Most nights, I wait for the daily screaming match of his, the abusive feel of his fist reaching towards me, missing me by an inch, and more yelling because of it. His drunken appearance had failed to show itself this time.
About an hour later, I finally pushed myself off the floor and stood up. My eyes scanned the hallway for any sign of life but found nothing. I eventually decided to look around the house. The television set was off, but beer cans were everywhere, as usual. He was here. I knew he was here. My heart raced as I inched my way towards his room. I peered through a small crack in his door with just one eye, and I found him passed out on the ground from alcohol. I panicked.
I looked at the pathetic man lying on the ugly beige carpet stained with spilled cans of beer. Everything became a blur after that. I remember frantically checking his vital signs, dialing 911 and watching his lifeless body dragged away by an ambulance. I stood there, quivering with emotions I couldn’t even recognize, unable to snap out of it.
Eventually, I found my cell phone and called Brendon. He answered in a bored tone, asking me what was up. I replied in the most monotone sound I ever heard escape my lips.
“D-do you mind if maybe I could crash at your place tonight… I-I’ll explain when I get there… I-I just c-can’t be here right now.” I was on the verge of tears. I couldn’t think anymore. I was practically on my knees begging on the fucking phone.
I could hear concern in his voice when he said it was okay. The second we both hung up, I just ran as fast as I could up to my room. My mind couldn’t handle being in this house anymore. The stale, disgusting scent of home that filled my nostrils was only filling me with more anger and hatred. I couldn’t take this anymore. I hastily packed away everything I could think of that I’d need. Clothes, personal hygiene products, and of course my makeup. My notebook, too. I needed to write everything down. I felt the undying urge to take the pen to the paper and write. I couldn’t stay here and write, though. I couldn’t bring myself to stay in this home anymore.
My mind was racing as I drove, and I wasn’t paying attention. I was so close to just crashing and forgetting everything. I tried to keep my focus on getting to Brendon’s though. I had to. I needed him. I wanted him more than anything.
The second I showed up at the door, I didn’t even have to knock. Brendon opened it and beckoned me inside. He invited me upstairs to his room, seeing the distress in my eyes.
“So, what happened?” He asked. That’s where I lost it. I lost control of everything. Words flew out of my mouth one after another. I couldn’t stop. Every little thing about my father and I just came out. I told him why I was here tonight, at the end of it all. No words were said after that. My hysteric cries began to slow down when I felt his arm around my shoulder. He looked up at me, with those beautiful chocolate eyes and said, “I’m here.”
For the first time in my life, I felt like someone actually wanted to help me. As if someone actually cared. I felt safe.
I didn’t want to leave the comfort of the warm water, though I had to because the water heater was old, and the hot water wouldn’t last forever. The moment I switched off the shower, the eerie quiet that filled my ears gave me chills, along with the cold air that touched my skin. I shook the feeling off as I dried my soaking wet body.
The second I stepped out of that bathroom, I knew something was wrong. Everything was dark. No lights were on, and I felt alone. Goosebumps covered my arms. Something was definitely wrong. My father was nowhere to be seen. In this house, it was an impossible feat to even walk through the front door, let alone do anything inside without being bombarded by the scent of alcohol under his breath. And that horrible yell he throws at you if you do even just one, insignificant thing that displeases him in any way.
I stood there in silence, waiting for something to happen, but it stayed silent. My body began to shake with terror, and I collapsed onto the floor. What was going on here? Most nights, I wait for the daily screaming match of his, the abusive feel of his fist reaching towards me, missing me by an inch, and more yelling because of it. His drunken appearance had failed to show itself this time.
About an hour later, I finally pushed myself off the floor and stood up. My eyes scanned the hallway for any sign of life but found nothing. I eventually decided to look around the house. The television set was off, but beer cans were everywhere, as usual. He was here. I knew he was here. My heart raced as I inched my way towards his room. I peered through a small crack in his door with just one eye, and I found him passed out on the ground from alcohol. I panicked.
I looked at the pathetic man lying on the ugly beige carpet stained with spilled cans of beer. Everything became a blur after that. I remember frantically checking his vital signs, dialing 911 and watching his lifeless body dragged away by an ambulance. I stood there, quivering with emotions I couldn’t even recognize, unable to snap out of it.
Eventually, I found my cell phone and called Brendon. He answered in a bored tone, asking me what was up. I replied in the most monotone sound I ever heard escape my lips.
“D-do you mind if maybe I could crash at your place tonight… I-I’ll explain when I get there… I-I just c-can’t be here right now.” I was on the verge of tears. I couldn’t think anymore. I was practically on my knees begging on the fucking phone.
I could hear concern in his voice when he said it was okay. The second we both hung up, I just ran as fast as I could up to my room. My mind couldn’t handle being in this house anymore. The stale, disgusting scent of home that filled my nostrils was only filling me with more anger and hatred. I couldn’t take this anymore. I hastily packed away everything I could think of that I’d need. Clothes, personal hygiene products, and of course my makeup. My notebook, too. I needed to write everything down. I felt the undying urge to take the pen to the paper and write. I couldn’t stay here and write, though. I couldn’t bring myself to stay in this home anymore.
My mind was racing as I drove, and I wasn’t paying attention. I was so close to just crashing and forgetting everything. I tried to keep my focus on getting to Brendon’s though. I had to. I needed him. I wanted him more than anything.
The second I showed up at the door, I didn’t even have to knock. Brendon opened it and beckoned me inside. He invited me upstairs to his room, seeing the distress in my eyes.
“So, what happened?” He asked. That’s where I lost it. I lost control of everything. Words flew out of my mouth one after another. I couldn’t stop. Every little thing about my father and I just came out. I told him why I was here tonight, at the end of it all. No words were said after that. My hysteric cries began to slow down when I felt his arm around my shoulder. He looked up at me, with those beautiful chocolate eyes and said, “I’m here.”
For the first time in my life, I felt like someone actually wanted to help me. As if someone actually cared. I felt safe.