Tracked
Daddy. ~ Emily
I submerged my face in the uncomfortably cold, harsh water. I held it there. After a few seconds bubbles had stopped forming from my mouth. I could feel my hair floating weightlessly around my face.
One minute- my eyes began to blur. Two minutes, my lungs began to burn with the lack of oxygen.
I forced myself to stay under for four whole minutes, locked in my own, silent, watery world.
All at once I came back up gasping and spluttering for air. All around the sink was sodden, as well as my hair which clung to my face like vines growing up a wall, ripping out its' cement. I stared at the mirror.
What time was it? Way after midnight. Dad gets home at eleven, and he's already in bed. Alone... I get sick of lying to him.
"Mum's out, she has to work late, she called." I mumble in reply to his questions. I hope she doesn't think I lie for her benefit; I just don't want to be the one to tear Dad apart.
My Dad has never been the strong one. My childhood memories are full of his tears, be them of joy or of sorrow. Most mums cry on their children's first day of school, waving them off with misty eyes. I don't think my mum knew about it in all honesty. My Dad though, he walked me up to the gates, as proud as any of the mothers there, with tears in his eyes as he said fairwell. He made a special tea afterwards, for his special, big girl. He went to the shops and bought two big cream buns, one for each of us. I ended up eating mine and most of his though. I remember hearing them arguing when my mum got home. He said she should have been there - she should have.
No, I would not be the one to break his heart.
I climbed down the stairs, not even bothering to dry my face with a towel and curled into the foetal position on the sofa as I have done so many nights before. Never looking away from the clock yet just barely keeping my eyes open, I waited for my 'Mum' to come back home.
Sometime after one, I must have fallen asleep, as I was startled awake by the sound of my tipsy mother cascading through the living room.
"Mum?" I called. Who else could it be?
"*hic* aha, there she is, there's my daughter. Come on love, give me a kiss." The stench of alcohol made my eyes water and my stomach turn.
"No, you're drunk. Go to bed. Why are you so late? No wait, just go to bed."
"And who *hic* are you?... My mother? Don't you dare talk to me like that! And for another thing..."
"JUST SHUT UP." The tone of my voice startled even me. The palm which crossed my cheek barely made me blink, yet left me with a stinging sensation.
"The door was open! You know what it is like around here! There's *hic* gangs! Do you want a gang to come in here, steal our stuff? Who's going to protect you? Your father?!"
She stopped to laugh at her own little joke, leaving me time to quickly sprint up the stairs before even the first tear left my eye. No mother, no gangs are going to come into our house. You're the only unwanted visitor here.
One minute- my eyes began to blur. Two minutes, my lungs began to burn with the lack of oxygen.
I forced myself to stay under for four whole minutes, locked in my own, silent, watery world.
All at once I came back up gasping and spluttering for air. All around the sink was sodden, as well as my hair which clung to my face like vines growing up a wall, ripping out its' cement. I stared at the mirror.
What time was it? Way after midnight. Dad gets home at eleven, and he's already in bed. Alone... I get sick of lying to him.
"Mum's out, she has to work late, she called." I mumble in reply to his questions. I hope she doesn't think I lie for her benefit; I just don't want to be the one to tear Dad apart.
My Dad has never been the strong one. My childhood memories are full of his tears, be them of joy or of sorrow. Most mums cry on their children's first day of school, waving them off with misty eyes. I don't think my mum knew about it in all honesty. My Dad though, he walked me up to the gates, as proud as any of the mothers there, with tears in his eyes as he said fairwell. He made a special tea afterwards, for his special, big girl. He went to the shops and bought two big cream buns, one for each of us. I ended up eating mine and most of his though. I remember hearing them arguing when my mum got home. He said she should have been there - she should have.
No, I would not be the one to break his heart.
I climbed down the stairs, not even bothering to dry my face with a towel and curled into the foetal position on the sofa as I have done so many nights before. Never looking away from the clock yet just barely keeping my eyes open, I waited for my 'Mum' to come back home.
Sometime after one, I must have fallen asleep, as I was startled awake by the sound of my tipsy mother cascading through the living room.
"Mum?" I called. Who else could it be?
"*hic* aha, there she is, there's my daughter. Come on love, give me a kiss." The stench of alcohol made my eyes water and my stomach turn.
"No, you're drunk. Go to bed. Why are you so late? No wait, just go to bed."
"And who *hic* are you?... My mother? Don't you dare talk to me like that! And for another thing..."
"JUST SHUT UP." The tone of my voice startled even me. The palm which crossed my cheek barely made me blink, yet left me with a stinging sensation.
"The door was open! You know what it is like around here! There's *hic* gangs! Do you want a gang to come in here, steal our stuff? Who's going to protect you? Your father?!"
She stopped to laugh at her own little joke, leaving me time to quickly sprint up the stairs before even the first tear left my eye. No mother, no gangs are going to come into our house. You're the only unwanted visitor here.