Picture Perfect

I haven’t seen William since the incident in which he saw my bruises. It’s like he’s trying to avoid me, or something. Melanie hasn’t said a word about the bruises, meaning that either William hasn’t told her, or he has, but she’s not saying a word until I tell her personally. I prefer the former one to the latter one. If she’s waiting for me to tell her, I’d feel bad. I’d feel as though she’d think I don’t trust her, which isn’t true. The problem is that I don’t want her to know. I’m ashamed and embarrassed, and I feel like the whole situation with my father is my fault. I can’t tell this to anybody. They’ll either blame me, or say, “Oh, Emily, it isn’t your fault.” And then I couldn’t trust them, because I’d feel as though they are lying to me.

I don’t want anybody to lie to me.

- - - - -

It’s summer break. The sun is shining, barely a cloud in the light blue sky. Isn’t that how it should be? Oh, no. Not today. Yes, its summer break, but the sun isn’t shining, and there are definitely many clouds in the sky. It’s storming out today, the thunder and lightning kind. When I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. The power went out. William hasn’t called. Melanie’s at some camp reunion. My mom’s at work, and my dad was sitting on the couch, drinking his booze, like usual. He was watching TV, until the power went out. Now he’s yelling at me. Yes, dad, the whole thing is my fault. I control the weather.

“Emily! Get down here now!” he called in a drunken rage.

“Yes, father,” I had no choice but to obey him.

Apparently, he wanted me to get him some more booze, and if I didn’t, it’d be the “belt” for me. I carried out the order with haste; not because of the threat, though. I could handle the pain of the belt; I just didn’t want him to yell at me. I gave him his beloved alcohol.

“Now, make the TV work, Emily,” he slurred.

“Daddy, I can’t. The power went out,” I tried to explain. I’m surprised I even made it to his alcohol without practically killing myself.

“Don’t make excushes, Emily. Fix it, or find shomeone who will.”

I tried to further explain to him that I could not control these things. He didn’t believe me, or he just wanted to start a fight.

“Emily! I’ve just about had enough of you!” he screamed at me. “Why couldn’t it have been you?!”