Out-Dated

11.

  ( 🚫TW)

       Every night of the next week, my dad  screamed at me until I started sobbing. It was the anniversary of the day my mom left, 8 years ago and he always tended to drink more around this time. On top of that he was distraught over me and Spence which only made things ten times worse. I cried myself to sleep and wanted so badly for Spence to just come check on me and make sure I was ok. But of course he didn't, because he didn't know how bad things were. But even if he did; his job was still probably more important to him.

    On Friday I woke up with the ever-so-slightest feeling of relief, just because I was going to see him and all I wanted to do right then was talk to him. It always made things better. My dad was oddly calm in the morning.

    "What time do you want me to go to tutoring?" I asked cautiously, swirling a spoon in a bowl of cereal.

    "You're not going." My dad said, sipping coffee.

    "Dad I thought you said my grade has to be-"

   "It wasn't me. It was Spencer. He cancelled."

    I froze.

    "What?"

    My heart shattered in my chest.

   "I called you another tutor for 4:30. She'll be coming here, to the house." He said matter-of-fact.

   I hid my emotions so my dad wouldn't suspect anything.

I swallowed.  "Ok. Great. Well I'm just going to go pick up the book I left at Spencer's then, if that's ok." I stated and got up from the table. 

   "That's fine. Be quick." My dad said, focused on the newspaper.

   I got in my car, slammed the door, and sped off. As I drove, tears inevitably poured from my eyes and I dug my nails into the material of the steering wheel. My stomach weld into a knot as I cried. I couldn't tell if I was more hurt or just sad but whatever it was it caused me to be livid and irate. I was so angry. I guess it was because the only light it my life was dimming and pulling away and it hurt so bad I could've imploded. I had been left behind too many times before.

     I came to his house; the sight of it made me sick. I rushed to the door and knocked violently. Seconds passing felt like hours and I kicked and hit it in frustration. And then he opened it. The unsuspecting look on his face made me even more furious.

     "What the fuck?" I yelled and shoved him backwards.

     "Why did you cancel? Why did go away? I needed you and you didn't even care! You care that much more about your fucking job than me?" I yelled, pushing him away. He looked like his brain wasn't keeping up with my words, so startled and taken back.

      "I-I'm sorry Ella, I thought I was doing what was right." He looked terrified.

      "What's right? You promised me you would be here-that you wouldn't go away but guess what? You're a fucking liar." I pushed passed him and ran into the house.

        I ran to his desk and rummaged through the drawers for the white notebook. I pulled it out and began ripping up the pages. He ran after me. I held it away from him.

    "You want nothing to do with me? Fine, I want nothing to do with you either!" I screamed and cried tearing up page after page of beautiful poetry written about me with painful care.

      "Ella- no! Please- stop!" He shrieked, trying desperately to stop me.

I threw it onto the floor. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." I repeated in tears, grabbing his shirt in my fist and pushing him back again. He grabbed my hands, controlling my anger.

    He looked at my shaking arm and refocused his eyes on the red marks and bruises , left exposed by my rolled up sleeve.

     "What is this?" He rolled up my sleeve further, examining me closely.

   I pulled myself loose of his grip and tried to run away but he caught me again.

    "What is this, Ella!" He raised his voice and it rang in my ears.

  "Are you hurting yourself?" He asked firmly.

   "No!" I shouted back, glaring at him,

    He looked at me, lost and hopeless and then it dawned on him.

   "Is this your dad?" The words took my breath away. He held my wrists tightly and I looked away.

    He grabbed my chin in his hand and turned my face, wet with tears, towards him.

    "Ella. Is this your dad?" He asked again, raising his voice.

    "Why is he doing this?" He yelled. "Why? Why is he hurting you?" His eyes moved frantically over me, begging me to answer.

   "Ella!" He shook me.

    "Because of you, asshole!" I screamed back in his face.

   "Because of you and me. Us together!"

  It wasn't the truth. Yes it made my dad angry but we weren't the problem. My dad was the problems. It was his own issues, not ours. And I still regret ever saying it.

    His eyes grew wide and his hands dropped my arms in guilt. He covered his face with his hands. I pulled my sleeve down, covering the terrible marks on my arms that hurt to even look at and made me feel like less of a person.

     He suddenly ran out of the room and grabbed his car keys.

    "Spencer where are you going?" I sniffled.

     He rushed out the door and out to his car. I knew he was headed for my house.

    "Spencer don't!" I screamed , but he sped off.

    I ran to my car and drove after him. God knows what my dad would do to Spencer if he told him he knew about the abuse.