Remembering Sunday.

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Ever's Point Of View

"Ever, get up! We're leaving!" Bellows my father, can I even call him that anymore?

"Leaving, where to?" I ask, climbing out of bed with a yawn, my feet settled on the wooden floor. 

"Ever, we're leaving. We're never coming back." He replies calmly, standing at my door with his arms crossed. I know that Dad has had quite a few problems in the past, and now these problems are coming back to haunt him, which is sending him into a state of insanity.

For the past years, he's been drinking excessively each night. When I got in his way he slapped me and kicked me so hard that I got bruises, but he's slowly recovering, this is one of the rare moments where he hasn't been drinking the night before and not aggressive towards me. I sigh as Dad begins to walk away from me, great. 

"Oh okay, um Dad?" 

"hmm?" He pauses and turns around.

"Promise me, you won't drink again." I beg him, he may have hurt me but somehow, I've found forgiveness for him. This all started because I brought up my sister in a conversation, she died when I was 5, she'd be twenty nine now, this triggered Dad to get angry and he began drinking. The mornings after he got drunk, he'd piece together what he did and apologize over and over to me, at first I didn't accept his apologies; but eventually I forgave him knowing we were both suffering through the same pain.

Dad walks away quietly, I look around to see that most of my belongings have been packed into boxes, stacked up against a wall. 

My stomach churns, what about Andy? 

"Dad? Can I go see a friend before we go?" 

"No, Ever, we're leaving as soon as the truck gets here, which should be soon." 

I sit on my bed and bury my head in my hands. 

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