My Saving Grace

Coming Home to a Drunk Once Again

_______________Edited____________

I wish I could say I enjoyed coming home after school, but it was the exact opposite, I hated coming home.

Last year things were totally different. I would come home to a warm comforting house, usually smelling like some kind of cake or cookies, mom loved to bake, it was her passion. With her being a stay at home mom she felt like she needed a hobby and baking was hers.

I remember when dad would come home smiling from work. He loved to see mom happy it made him happy as well. Ever since mom died I hadn't seen him smile at all.

Last year my mom committed suicide. Even though she seemed like a happy person and loved baking and my dad things weren't all sunshine and rainbows for her. We struggled with money a lot of the time because dad would randomly get laid off, as bad as she wanted to get a job and help out dad wouldn't let her he said there was no need for her to be wore out from working and he felt she would be happier at home.

Could he have been more wrong? Mom got tired of being home alone and I could tell it was wearing her down. Dad never saw it coming when he came home from work to her hanging in their room from a rope.

I honestly couldn't say I saw it coming either, but there were giant signs. Two days before she committed suicide mom took me to the mall for a shopping spree, she felt like I needed some clothes and where dad had been back to work money wasn't so tight, when we were driving home from the mall I remember mom bringing up how beautiful I was and how glad she had a daughter like me.

****Flashback****

"Honey I'm so proud of the fine lady you are becoming" mom said.

I was kind of caught off guard because even though I knew she loved me dearly she never said these kinds of things.

"Thanks mom, it's only because of you and dad"

"Your beautiful, you have the same beautiful eyes as your father".

I had my fathers bright blue eyes, but I looked exactly like my mom with long golden blonde hair and slim figure, I only had dads eyes.

"I'm going to miss those eyes" she sighed.

I sat there confused for a few minutes as we drove home in silence. What did she mean she was going to miss my eyes?

"Uhm, mom why are you going to miss my eyes?"

She looked over at me and I could see slight panic in her eyes.

"Oh love I totally forgot to tell you me and your father are going away for a month soon that's all I meant".

****End Flashback****

I should have picked it up as a sign in the car that day, I could have saved her. I should have somehow made things better then I wouldn't have to be taking this abuse from my drunken dad all the time. Ever since mom died he started picking up drinking, now he's drunk pretty much 24/7.

Now at the age of seventeen I come home to a drunken father every night.
As I'm walking up to my house from school I'm praying he isn't home or he's passed out so I won't have to deal with him. I unlock the door and look around the living room and don't see him passed out on the couch and the house is silent. Oh good maybe he's not home. He's probably at some local bar drinking away his sorrows. I walk up to my room and as I open the door I see my father sitting on my bed with a whiskey bottle in hand.

"Oh-uh d-dad I didn't realize you were home".

He tilts the whiskey bottle up and just stares at me for a few minutes before saying anything.

"Where the fuck were you today?!"

Great he's angry, this was the worst of the beatings when he was angry.

"I-I was at school, the weekends over, it's Monday dad".

"Shut the fuck up, don't you dare talk to me like that, I know what fucking day it is bitch now come here so I can beat you for talking to me like that".

He stood up kind of staggering and pulled to to the bed by my hair, he punched me in the stomach making me scream in pain, I should be used to it now but not matter what it seemed to hurt worse every time.

"Shut up bitch" he yelled.

He threw me on the ground and started kicking me in the back over and over again for what felt like forever, until he must of got tired. He stopped and staggered out of the room with his whiskey bottle still in hand.

I stayed laying on the floor tears streaming down my face and wishing like hell I was somewheres else, anywhere else.

This was my life every single day and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.