Parish: Killing Me Slowly

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Daddy? Daddy!" I say as I run towards him. "Look what I found!" I giggle and open my hands, showing him the pretty butterfly I caught.

"It's beautiful, pumpkin." He smiles and puts his hands over mine. "But you should let it go. Beautiful creatures are meant to kept against their will. It's not right." I nod my head at my father. I know he's right, but it's so pretty. I don't wanna let it go.

I frown slightly as I walk over to the tree where I found the butterfly. I open my hands and gently set it down on a leaf. Almost immediately, the butterfly tries to fly away. I say try, because no matter how much it flaps its wings, it can't get more than a few feet off the ground.

"Daddy? What's wrong with him? Why can't he fly?" I ask my father as I watch the butterfly flap uselessly.

"Because, pumpkin, he was in your hands so long that his wings got wet from your palms sweating." My father grabs the butterfly and sets him down on a leaf that has both sun and shade on it. I frown when I realize its my fault he can't fly anymore and start to cry.

"Oh, no. Baby, it's not your fault." My father says as he pulls me in for a hug. "He'll fly again when his wings are dry." I stop crying and look up at my father.

"R-really?" I ask and sniffle.

"Yes, pumpkin. Really." He smiles and I can't help but smile back. My father picks me up and we walk home.

When we get inside, my father tells me to get a vase and some water for the flowers he brought home with him. I'm not sure what they were, but they were beautiful and all different colors. There were blues, reds, pinks, and even oranges with yellow.

After I grab the vase daddy wants, I fill it up with water. I look at it closely and realize there is something written on it. I squint my eyes so I can see better and it read: 'To James Parish, from Maria' and below that, it read 'James, I realize this isn't the best gift, but I thought it was beautiful, the way it shines in the light. So, here you go. I love you James. Maria.'

I think about that for a minute. My mother's name was Maria, even though I've never met her. She died after I was born, though I don't know why. Maybe this was from my mother. I really hope so.

After I fill the vase halfway with water, I carry it into the living room where my dad is. As I walk out of the kitchen, I have to walk up a couple steps. I trip on the last one and lose grip on the vase. The vase falls and crashes to the ground, breaking into a thousand tiny pieces. My father comes running into the room, Greg on his heels.

"Pumpkin, are you o--" My father stops talking and looks at the glass on the ground. "Is that the vase I told you to grab for me? The special one?" He looks angry as he says this and I can't help but back towards the wall.

"Y-yes." I say, because its true. "I f-fell and it broke. I'm s-sorry." A look crosses my father's face that I have never seen before. I quickly become terrified. He walks close to me and stops just in front of me, his toes touching mine. He bends down and raises his hand. 

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I open my eyes with a start. My body is trembling and I am covered with sweat. The room I am in is too dark to see, so I shut my eyes again. I hear voices talking, but can make nothing of the words.

That was the first time my father ever hit me. I was only ten year olds and I accidentally broke the vase. However, at the time, I did not know the sentimental value that vase held for my father. If he didn't want it broken, he should have got it himself instead of sending a clumsy ten-year-old for it.