When He Comes

Whenever I hear that noise of his car pulling into the garage, fear strikes me. I'm not really sure why. He doesn't hit me any more, and family-life right is fairly un-intrusive. The stresses I work out now in kumdo (call it kendo if you want) are no longer family-related, but rather school-related. Go Green has invaded my life, in an negative manner :( You could call family-life idyllic right now. The only tremors I feel are when my mother throws one of her frequent rages. But even so, I feel like I can handle them now, as well as I handle the empty dinner table, the ridiculously messy house, the constant humming of the television and the sprawled drunken messes I call my parents in front of it. I've grown resigned to my fate, as you could say. Wait, that's a lie actually - but I've accepted it as part of my life, and I won't expect my parents to turn into brightly smiling rays of sunshine ready to embrace me and my thoughts.

But that sound of his car pulling into the car strikes inexplicable fear into my heart. I shovel any remaining my food on my plate into my mouth, and most days I can finish this race, or else I take the rest of my food into my room to finish it in peace. I can't stand facing that man. Mornings are highly distasteful affairs, I quake and hide at the sounds of him. I wish he wasn't here. Those two weeks when he left the house were my favourite,  the most peacable two weeks of my young life.

Again,

and I'll call the police on you. You just try and...

It's. Everybody Else's, But Yours.

Fault. Of course I'm the first to be blamed by you. I always am. No matter how isolated I am from the issue, no matter how much I have no idea what is going on. It's my fault. Now that you've beaten me, get out of my life.

These feelings aren't sudden

I was thinking back, and I remembered when you left for two or weeks when I was eight. I remember sulking when you came back, because I liked life better without you in it. Those memories where buried away until just then. Life felt more free when you weren't there. Back then, the three of us were happy.

Now it's just me.

But I can do it myself.

Escape

If only I could.
You, I hate you. Every time I hear your voice, I recoil under my blankets. Every time your foot steps approach my door.. My heart beat quickens, I pray that you won't open the door. Yesterday night, you touched my hand. I don't know what I was thinking, but naturally I recoiled and you slapped me. The times you've ripped my hair out. The times where you've threatened me with a knife. The times where your eyes bulge and dilate with anger, and oh, the times when I've wished you would drop on the spot.