Toxic Love (Completed)

Chapter 2: Making It Through The Night

I've truly never been the person to take the easy way out. And if you don't understand what I mean by that, I'll gladly tell you. Suicide. My mother always use to tell me that was the cowards way out. But after seeing my mother's throat being slit in front of me and my little brother being tortured, suicide no longer seems like a coward's way out.

It seems like heaven. But what I didn't know at the time, is that even though I watched my mother and little brother die in front of me, that wasn't and will never be the worst thing that happened to me. There is so much more to come. So much more pain, devastation, and abuse.

My mother was a very wise woman my dad use to say. While she had her sayings about suicide, she had another that I use to always believe was true. But after everything that just occurred, I'm starting to doubt it. She use to tell me that everything happens for a reason. And that God doesn't give us more than we can handle. But at this moment, I think that saying was complete and utter horse shit made up to make people not give up or try to kill themselves.

My thoughts were consuming me but I was quickly brought out of my plan to quickly end my life by somebody placing their hand on my shoulder. The grip was not slight but it was painful due to their grip being quite harsh. Out of the pain which quickly started to hurt me I turned around and the pain subsided because the person's hand was no longer gripping my shoulder.

My father stood before me. The last time I talked to him, which was in his and my mother's room only about 20 minutes ago, I noticed something about him. Back in the room, the smell of the alcohol was almost completely gone compared to now. The smell was strong and my father's breath reeked of the alcohol. By the smell of it, the substance had to be vodka, which happened to be my father's favorite drink.

My father had been drinking again, which worried me. My guess is that the only reason why he was calm after my shower was because he wasn't drinking and the drinks from earlier had started to leave his body, but now he was even more intoxicated. "He should be here soon." my father reminded me.

By my guessing of what my father had told me so far, the man my father had invited over is not going to take me out to dinner or even something close. The way my father told me to dress and that he also told me to wear red lipstick, I now figured I was about to lose my virginity. And not in the way I wanted to. No way near close.

I nodded. "Speak girl. I don't want anymore nods. I need to know you understand." My father said as he gripped my face and pulled my face closer to his. Now I could definitely tell he was drunk. More totally wasted. I could never totally understand how he could drink that quickly.

I knew even before I nodded, that he wanted a real answer and not some bullshit nod. My father always told me that nodding and shaking your head isn't a real answer. You have to say "yes" or "no". He would always correct me on that. Usually adding a joke in or something along the line. But I knew before I nodded, that if I spoke, that I would start to cry.

And what have we learned so far?

If you guessed that my father HATED crying then you are correct and you have been listening to this shitty story so far! But, without even thinking I nodded to my father's previous sentence sending him into a rage.

He grabbed the closest thing to us which was a small vase my mother use to fill with flowers every Sunday morning, and smashed it against my head making me fall off the small chair I was just currently sitting on.

I yelped out in pain. "What did I just tell you?!" He screamed. "I'm sorry," I muttered out. "You damn well better be. Little whore." My father said. "Get this shit clean up and fix your hair. He will be here soon, and right now you look like shit," he said before marching out of the room in a complete rage and slamming the door shut startling me.