The Million Dollar Man

And in the end, despite everything, I always blame myself.

Maybe I could have stopped my father. Maybe I could have helped my mother. Maybe I could have been strong, but instead I was weak. I was pathetic and worthless.

I remember thinking of ways to try to stop my father. To divert his anger away from my mother, even more a mere second at the most.

That's what true desperation is.

Shockingly enough, it wasn't words, or my physical attempts that got my father to hesitate, and even stop a few times.

In the beginning, I had always thought it was all about staying strong, to never give up, and to never break down.

But how was I supposed to not break down?

It happened one night right after a job had gone severely wrong. Of course, I don't remember much, but they say that the most traumatic events will stay with you for life. Haunting you.

+++++

Flashback

My stomach clenched uncomfortably as her cries echoed from the room below. I shifted restlessly on my bed, while my hands gripped the sheets rather tightly. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

I was desperate to calm down.

Fear penetrated my soul, mixed with the nauseating sense of danger that coated over my in a suffocating manner.

The air felt thick around me, choking me as I struggled to find a sense of security.

'It will be okay, Evie, don't worry.' I shook my head slightly, a weak attempt to shake away my worry and fright.

My body lurched against the heated bed as a piercing scream echoed from downstairs. My eyes squeezed shut and my hands moved upwards to cradle my face while wiping the stray tears that leaked from my eyes. And then I couldn't take it anymore.

I couldn't bear the misery that weighed down on me.

With one last deep breath, I peeled the covers from my shaking form. My hands trembled and I lightly placed my feet against the ground.

'Why is daddy so mad?' I asked myself, cringing as I heard her cries fill my ears. I couldn't comprehend why daddy would hurt mommy. Wasn't he supposed to love her?

I slowly opened my door, wincing at the creaking noises that echoed from my actions. Slipping through the doorway, I glanced into Danny's empty room. I couldn't help but frown sadly. He never seemed to be home anymore, ever since he had started working, whatever that meant.

At the age of six even I could see that our family was being torn apart.

The tension was so painful that even I began to avoid my family.

It all started when my brother began working. Mommy told daddy that she didn't want him to, and that's when the first fight happened. Daddy told mommy to go shut up and let him make the choices, and that's when she started yelling. My mommy always said I was like her, stubborn, impulsive, and determined as hell.

I flinched as her whimpers made their way to my ears, pounding within my head as I padded down the stairs towards the source of my misery.

I knew it was risky to just barge in like that, but I wasn't thinking. As I rounded the corner, I felt my stomach tighten anxiously.

My eyes widened as I took in the sight before me.

Chairs were overturned, papers were scattered across the room, and right in the center was my mommy.

Though her features were twisted in agony, her eyes told me otherwise. They were cold, empty, and emotionless. Glazed over as a side affect of the drugs she would indulge upon, as I would later come to know.

If you're loving the book, nel5s.org is where the adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience all for free. The next chapter is eagerly waiting for you!

<< Mommy ! »> I shrieked the second my daddy's hand entangled within her hair. Her expressed screamed the pain that he inflicted upon her.

My daddy froze for a split second, his dark eyes meeting my watery blue ones. I felt bile rise in my throat, making my gag weakly.

<< Daddy ? » My voice was no more than a whisper, but it held my daddy's attention for long enough.

He slowly released her hair, allowing her to collapse back onto the hard wooden floor. A cry left her lips as her feeble frame sank down, and her eyes closed in anguish.

The voice in the back of my head warned me to run. It was urging me to escape this cruelty, this sickening abuse.

<< Go upstairs, >> my daddy urged me quietly, his eyes taking on a flicker of warmth. But something told me not to believe him.

When he was pulling mommy's hair he didn't seem too sorrowful, as he was now trying to convince me.

<< But mommy... >> I trailed off in a questioning tone. My eyes flickered back down to her broken form, scanning over the bruises that now scattered her exposed skin, a visual presentation of my daddy's wrath.

It was then that something jerked within me, and died. I barely had time to register what had happened before I felt something change inside of me.

Could distrust, hatred, and misery possibly be awakened within a person, and a six-year-old girl for that matter?

I let out a scream of desolation, as I stared into my mother's unfocused eyes, and my father's eyes that brewed with the utmost amount of distaste mixed with abhorrence. This wasn't right.

The sob that broke through my parted lips made my entire body quake with terror and pain.

The sound was inhumane, and only frightened me further. It was bringing me to the verge of insanity, and then taunting me mercilessly.

I continued to cry and refused to stop even after my father pulled me into his arms and reassured me that it would be okay.

It was then I realized that I had a secret weapon, and shockingly enough, it was the one thing that I had felt die within me.

If you're loving the book, nel5s.org is where the adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience-all for free. The next chapter is eagerly waiting for you!

My humanity.

+++++

Sickening, right?

He was the first one I decided to break away from.

My father was nothing but a monstrosity, something I would understand more and more as I grew older.

The fights grew, and soon enough, my father blamed my mother for absolutely everything that ever happened; every job gone wrong, every headache he received, and every measly annoyance that was brought upon him. And then there was me, the girl who cried.

The girl, who had absolutely no idea what to do, but to cry and hope the man she once saw as her hero, would cease the abuse.

Hope, I often find myself laughing bitterly at the thought.

And though I continuously scoff at the pathetic thought of hope, I always seem to fall into its cycle.

In the beginning, I had hoped my father would return to the daddy I knew and loved. In the beginning, I hoped that my mother with glazed eyes would go back to being the mommy that would wipe my tears away and hold me whenever I needed to be comforted.

There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about that.

Sometimes I wonder if they had ever actually loved each other.

I'm no expert on the subject, but even I know the foundation of love is not made up of abuse, hatred, and pain.

She said I was just like her, and at this point I not sure whether to think that was a compliment or not.