Daddy's Princess

1 - Luck

I know pain. The kind of pain that throbs, and swells, pulsating. If in luck, there would be no blood. In a few days, all that will be left will be a yellow hue that indicates the final healing stage. At least, my body still heals.  At least, this slap on my face wasn't too hard enough, hard enough that could make it bleed. It's something I'd have to be thankful for. I'd have to be grateful that it wasn't a punch in the face. Maybe, he still has a little mercy left for me as to receive a palm and not the knuckles. 

I'm used to this.

I would consider myself lucky if he didn't come home from work. I used to think that God saved me again if he didn't come home in a few days.  But once he does, I hide in my room. It's where I'd be locked in any way whenever I disappointed him. Despite hating me, I am still monitored. He knows everything I do in school and at home. And whenever I did something bad he would hit me. I don't even know what I did wrong most of the time he would come storming towards me with the stench of alcohol and tobacco. 

My father wasn't always like this.

I was eight when it happened.

He changed when my mom divorced him. Mom had a secret affair with his secretary, and they decided to leave the country after the divorce.

And that bitch of a mom left me with this man...

My father then became addicted to alcohol. Maybe that's the only thing that makes him forget the pain she caused as he drowns himself in it. He loves mom so much and learning that she had cheated on him with his so-called friend had taken away his sanity. She took his heart with her and left me with a psychotic drunkard. After my mother left him, he drowned his loneliness with alcohol. He just used to drink and shut me out. But now, all that bottled-up loneliness and anger is uncontrollable and I have become the scapegoat and the punching bag. 

Everything I do seems to disappoint him like I haven't done anything good. Or maybe, my existence itself is insufferable and it made me believe that worthless as a person. Even the times I think did well never get recognition from him, not even a nod or a shrug of his shoulders just to acknowledge I did something that did not offend him. 

Maybe, he finds amusement in hurting me. Maybe it's his way of revenge on the woman that left him.

And since hitting me isn't enough, he would throw in words -- insults, degrading me to the dirt as if I'm someone who's not of his blood. It would make sense if I weren't of his blood. Although, he treats other people much better than he did me. But it just made me realize that if he can do this to someone like me, he could do so much worse to other people who aren't related to him if there's no one looking.

Aside from alcohol, another distraction for him is work. It surprises me that he managed to synchronize work and alcohol well. He's a great businessman and money is one of his greatest motivations. Money does wonders that even reason can't comprehend.