Adopted by Hamilton

Chapter 157 - Why?

TRIGGER WARNING. TRIGGER WARNING.

I was sitting on the couch on my phone Saturday, when I heard Lin yell the S word from my room. My eyes widened, and I quickly shoved my phone into my sweatshirt pocket.

"Abigail. Leigh. Miranda." I looked up to see him standing in the living room, holding his small black pocket knife, his voice was shaking, like he was scared. "Abigail please, tell me there's an explanation for this."

"Um." I stuttered terrified, "I, uh, I'm..." I trailed off, he opened the knife, and I heard the F word escape under his breath, as he saw small drops of blood drip onto the hardwood floor, I forgot to wash it this morning.

"Show me your wrists." He instructed, and didn't wait for me to do it, he ran over to where I sat on the couch, and flipped both of my wrists up, shoving my sleeves up, to reveal clean skin. "Where?" He asked, "I know what you've been doing, show me where."

"Dad..." I started, "I'm sorry." I reached down, and pulled my right sock off, I pulled my foot onto the couch, showing him the little slits I had made in the skin in the past week. "I really am." I admitted, as he ran his finger over the tender skin, "I... I feel awful, I..."

"Why?" He asked. "Just, please, tell me why."

"I'm not quite sure, please, Dad, please don't be mad at me." I begged, I expected him to yell at me, but instead I felt my body move to the left, into him, he rested his head on my head.

"Oh darling, sweetheart, I would never ever be mad at you for this, it just, it just kills me, how long has this been going on?" He rubbed my arm lightly

"A little more than a week. The night before we left for Philadelphia."

"Peanut no," he hugged me tighter, "oh my gosh, why? Why didn't you talk to me? Or like, tell Dr. Dubois? Why are you doing this to yourself?" He asked.

"I'm so sorry." I whimpered.

"I know, I know you're sorry." He kissed the top of my head, "oh honey, I'm sorry, this is all my fault."

"How?" I asked, my voice light.

"I'm your dad, you're my responsibility, it's up to me to make sure you're happy, and, oh my little baby girl." He lifted me up from the couch, kissing my temple, he carried me into his room, and set me down on Vanessa's side of the bed. "I'm gonna grab ice cream, be right back." He ran out of the room and I heard him rummaging in the kitchen.

I broke down crying, he should be pissed off at me, I used his knife, I thought parents got angry at their kids for this.

"Oh, oh sweetheart, don't cry, no tears." He climbed onto the bed next to me, he handed me a pint of chocolate ice cream. "I know chocolates your favorite." He said, and pulled my sobbing figure into his side, "talk to me. Please."

"I just, I don't know, I don't, life sucks." I admitted, yanking the cap off of my pint of ice cream.

"No it doesn't, you're, honey what can I do?" He asked, holding me.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my spoon in my mouth.

"What can I do? To um, to make life suck a little less."

"Nothing, you're doing everything Dad, everything." I said still crying into my ice cream.

"Obviously not, because if I wasn't doing everything, you wouldn't have scars developing on your ankle, and you wouldn't be sobbing into a pint of ice cream."

"I hate the world."

"I get it, just, my small child, the world shouldn't be harsh to my small child." He said, kissing my head. "I want to yell at the world."