Daddy's Love

Chapter Six

I watched the movie, and it was boring as hell. The movie wasn't focused on the horror at all; instead, it was focused on how a family of five managed to beat the demons that were hunting the new, not haunted house they bought. Are you kidding me? Can you guess what the moral of the story was? Everything is possible when a family sticks together. At least that's how I interpreted it.

Nothing is possible for me, I guess, as I don't think I even have a family. I mean, I do, but the one I have is really, really broken. It almost makes me think I'd be better off without one. I know I shouldn't be saying this, and I should try to be grateful, but after what they've put me through and what I am still going through, I really wish I was born in an orphanage. I mean, think about it – I would have had to deal with them for 18 years legally or officially, and then both I and they would have been rid of me. But now, despite me being 20, I'm still struggling.

I couldn't fall asleep. Not because I was scared, but because there was so much stuff going through my head. I know both of my parents are adults and they can do whatever they want, but did they not think for a second how their divorce would affect me? Who am I kidding? My dad would beat me daily, and my mother would stand there blaming me for his anger issues. They never cared about me. In fact, I think they hated me. If that wasn't pretty obvious...

...But I still love them. I love my parents so much. Why can't they just love me back in return?

I felt this heaviness in my chest, like someone had dug a hole and placed a stone where my heart is supposed to be. It was there every day, but now it's much worse. It's much bigger. I don't know how to deal with it.

I left the room and went into the living room. There was a door that led to our apartment's balcony, and when I saw it, I got the idea to go there for a bit of fresh air.

It's actually a really nice little space. There are windows and a roof, so when it rains, the space is closed, and no water can get in, which meant that I could place a seat sofa there and not worry about it. Even if it did get wet, I doubt a bit of water can do much damage.

I sat on the sofa, and when I looked at my phone to see what time it was, it was almost midnight.

'Damn it,' I thought to myself, 'Will this insomnia ever go away?'

I hated this. I hated my life so much. I thought my sleeping would get better, and my anxiety or whatever I'm feeling would go away the moment I left Peter's house – I struggle sometimes to call him father or dad – but no, it never went away. It's not as bad; I know now at least I don't have physical danger around me, but the pain is still here. I still feel like sometimes, every time I mess something up, someone, my father, is waiting around the corner to whip out his belt and beat me up until I can't cry any longer.

"Fuck," I swore under my breath. "FUCK!" I screamed, but then I stopped myself from yelling anymore as I remembered my mother had her 'special guest' over.

'When will I stop hurting?' I asked myself in my mind. 'When will I stop... feeling this way? What did I do to deserve this?' I hated feeling like a victim. I hated it so much. So fucking much. There's nothing worse than victimizing yourself because it means that you have no power and no control over what's happening to you, and that was true. I have no power over this. My dad had power over me for so many years, and I was a victim back then. 'When I leave this house, I will not be a victim anymore. I will be a survivor,' I believed, which turned out to be false. I still have barely any control over anything. He still controls me, and there's nothing I can do about it.

I felt my lungs get tight and a lump grow in my throat. My eyes watered up. 'Why do you want to cry now?' I asked myself. It didn't make sense to me. Nothing made sense.