Chapter 41

"Hey, sweetheart." his voice echoes in my ear. It feels too loud, though my phone's volume is at the minimum. I hate it when he calls me sweetheart, it ruins it when someone else does. I hate his deep tone, it ruins it when someone else has one. I hate everything about him, the way his words are long, the way they're melodic, that kind of creepy comforting, the way his eyes sparkle with subtle evil. I hate everything about him. But.

I don't want to. I want to scream, I don't want it to happen again.

I stay silent. I breathe hard, I'm pretty sure he can hear me. Savannah's sleeping in the other room, she might hear me. I'm locked in the bathroom floor, so I wouldn't disturb her, on to the ground, back against the door, hugging my chest. I will not cry. I can't cry, not for this. I need to be strong. Why are tears considered weakness?

He manages to hear me, all of me, all the time. It looks like he searches for the flaws, for when I let him in, and not in as in let me love him. When I let his aura into my mind, staining everything with disgust, both towards me and towards him. I want to punch his stupid face into the sky, but I know I'd hate myself if I only told him that I disliked him, and that would be an understatement.

I hate how he creeps into my brain, like a parasite, grabbing and splitting every cell in half, making me hang onto every word, not the good kind of hanging. I hate how his image pops up every time I hear the word 'dad' on the street or near school or when any little thing might be connected to him, which is always. Because, even if I don't want to admit it to myself, I still see him everywhere, lurking in the shadows. The guy standing behind me in the supermarket, the guy I pass by everyday on my way home, the brand of backpacks he used to buy me, the shirt I wore last time, or didn't wear in that case, it all reminds me of him. And I hate it. I want to scream it all out. Rub him off of me, not only off my skin, in the shower, but off my mind too. Open my skull, remove him, and lock him miles underground, as if he were radioactive. He is. He does that. He's just as bad.

"How have you been?" He sounds nice. He doesn't sound arrogant like he used to. He sounds...regretful, almost. I keep staying silent. I can't bring myself to let a word out. I want to scream how well I've been doing without him, how, even if I hate when I get occasionally picked on, I like it better than when I was with him, how I'd like it better even if school was Hell. But I can't. I can't scream, I can't risk her hear and having to explain it all to someone, and I can't tell him that because I can't let him know it got to me. But it did, every time he'd even just look at me that way, even when we were all hurdled up in front of the TV, and he'd pull me in his lap, and touch me in angles where my mum couldn't see. I hate that he took that from me so many times and for so long. I wasn't supposed to know what sex was, I wasn't supposed to worry about those things, no one should.

"How is it like living with your grandparents?" I swallow, trying to let that little ball blocking my throat lose. I manage to let out a small "Mmh."

"Yeah, I never liked them either, those motherfuckers." He doesn't regret anything. He's gone back to how he was before.

"Listen, I wanted to talk to you about two things." He pauses, probably waiting for a response. I don't give one.

"First of all, I wanted to ask you to come back. I know I've done many things wrong, they weren't your fault." He doesn't even apologize. He never apologizes, but saying it's not my fault is a big thing for him. "I'm going to speak to your mother too soon, to ask her to come back too, but you can come even without her, live with me. Wouldn't you like that?" No, I wouldn't. But I miss my father as much as I hate him. I miss seeing him as my hero.

"The second thing is, in case you forget, to ensure you still remember our little promise?"

Panic strikes again, I feel myself tear up. I will not cry. I can't cry. I nod but he can't see me. I let out another sound, telling him that I do. I don't want to go back to that, I just want my father back, the one who'd love me as if I were the daughter that I am, because I am his daughter in every sense. But when he takes my clothes off.

"Princess? You okay?" I hear Savannah's voice on the other side of the door.

I quickly press the red button on my phone.

"Are you crying?" She asks.

"No, just needed a moment to myself." I stand up, unlock the door, and open it.

I'm faced with her, she looks worried and decides to look for signs of me crying. I made sure to erase them the way I did with mum before letting myself out.

"I told you I'm fine." My phone vibrates in my hand twice. I don't look at it until Savannah's turned around and isn't paying attention to me anymore.

Padre:

[10:37]: Are you hiding something from me or are you hiding me from something? You shouldn't be ashamed, you know. Nothing's wrong with calling your loving father.

[10:37]: Remember your promise.

I feel sick.

"I don't feel that well, going to the bathroom a second." I say.

"Is everything okay? Want me to get you something?"

I shake my head no and throw myself to the toilet seat, slamming the door behind me and pulling up my hair.

He makes me sick.