Hold Me Tight

|TWO|

Chapter Two: Pathetic
-arousing pity, especially through vulnerability or sadness-

I dreamt of my father again.

Once it became clear that Caren wasn't going to unlock my bedroom door until the next morning (or never) I finally allowed my body to rest and shut down.

I curled up on the floor with my journal tightly pressed to my chest and quickly drifted off to sleep. An act I soon realized was a huge mistake. Almost instantly my nightmare was upon me.

My father is sitting near me, so near that just stretching out my hand will result in myself touching his knee. His warmth tickles my side's but I don't dare giggle his aura of seriousness is present.

He smiles at me but it doesn't quite reach his eyes and the soft giggle which was threatening to escape vanishes completely. He let's out a deep sigh.

"Why did you do it kiddo?"

His words are painful to hear, but I'm unable to understand why. I finally allow myself to reach out resting my hand on his knee.

"What did I do?" My voice is older. But contained in the body of my seven year old self. He let's out a deep chuckle, one that rumbles throughout my body causing a slight earthquake on the porch.

Suddenly, the bright blue sky above us turns a sickening green the clouds bleeding black. Thick red blood drips from the clouds, a sick, twisted sort of rain. My dad continues to laugh even as his skin becomes tainted and smeared. All drops landing only on him, my body remaining clean. But suddenly the blood covering his body isn't coming from the sky, but from a cut across his neck.

I scream out in horror at the slit, but my dad continues to laugh again again and again, until he simply topples off the porch and lands by my feet. Dead.

"Tanya! Get your ass up!" The sound of a click and my bedroom door being thrown open awakens me from my dark dream.

I feverishly wipe the tears from my cheeks and try to calm my beating heart. My dad's laughter still rings in my ears. I'm going to be sick.

I ignore Caren who still stands by the door her mouth opening up to continue yelling bullshit and I rush to my trash can. I barely manage to shove my face into the opening before I vomit, those blood filled clouds hovering above me.

"Oh God your pathetic! Get cleaned up and then get out of my sight. "

Caren walks out leaving me to dwell on my thoughts and to continue vomiting.

It's not my fault.

Someone tell me it's not my fault he died..

I shakily get up and ignore my journal, which lies face down on my bed, knowing pathetic is already written there.

_____