It can hurt, but it heals. It is hard, but it brings the truth. Sometimes broken, sometimes built strong. An action of truth and description of sincerity. Love, truth, and respect are words without which it is nothing. To tighten their bound, one th...
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"Maya!" His undertone voice cried madly as if he expected someone else present at home. I opened the creaky door, and suddenly his face was only inches away from mine. I could feel his fast, odd, hot breathe on my skin. Drunk, of course, and too much, unfortunately.
"Yeah, dad? " I took a step backward, automatically.
"Where the hell were you?" He approached closer, and my heart skipped a beat. His black eyes staring at mine.
I hate his smell. Tears attacked my eyes as I thought.
I hate his eyes.
"Where?" He yelped tearing my eardrums.
"I...I...was at...co-collage." I hissed under my rapid breaths that weren't enough for getting oxygen to my lungs at all.
I hate his breathes.
Without noticing I'd fallen on the ground, cringing. And feeling a fire on my right cheek.
I hate his hands.
He rose me on my feet, which barely could endure my weight, and the next fist was on my left eye.
I hate his face.
This time a grand kick in my stomach by his feet. I curled into a ball, mewing like a cat out of pain.
I hate his legs.
He raised me again, not by my hair this time, by my neck. Pressing my neck to the wall as forcefully as he could. He pushed me against the wall as if the wall would break down. I smirked, but tears never leaving their steady position.
I hate his heart.
My lungs were burning, and begging for a bit air, but nowhere to be found.
I never got used to these, though I've experienced them since I was twelve. And now I'm seventeen -six years. It was stupid how my mind was counting the years accurately in that situation.
I hate his body.
How did I end up here? Where did it start? I tried to do something I always avoided; I tried to bring memories back. But my brain needed oxygen.
I hate his soul.
I couldn't fight against him anymore. My room blurred, my body stiff and feeble, numb and unmovable, tears falling and my lungs burning inside my chest annoyingly.
I hate him. I hate my dad. I hate my dad more than anything else in the world; I hate him more than anything in my life. I hate my life. I hate my mom for leaving me behind, with him. But I only hate one thing more than them, myself.
He tossed me down and left –fortunately- closing the door behind him. And I breathed deeply, my chest burning with each group oxygen in which entered my lungs. I didn't have the power to move or even to remove the tears. I was too tired too even breathe.
But memories came back as I was lying on the same frozen ground.
"....I hate my mom for leaving me behind, with him...."
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