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"Damnit, Karen! Why can't you just do the ******** dishes?!"
The drunken man's slurred voice echoed through the small house that used to be a home. The outburst was followed by a loud crash; the sound of shattering dishes. Hurried footsteps rushed down the hall, followed by a woman's voice.
"Please, John. The children are sleeping. I'll clean up the mess, why don't you go lay down?" she said softly, trying to calm him down like she usually did. Not that it ever worked. "You do NOT tell me what to do! You stupid b***h, who the hell do you think you are?! This is MY house! I let you stay here!"
Kylie chose now to stop listening and opened her door slowly. She cringed as it let out a soft creak, like a wail of protest, perhaps a warning. She froze in place, terrified that the sound had reached her father's ears. When he continued to scream at her mother, she knew it was safe. The seventeen year-old girl dashed down the hall as silently as she could. Stopping in front of a door covered in childish drawings and stickers of ponies, she waited for a second before pushing it open swiftly, knowing this door wouldn't creak. She closed it behind her softly and looked to the bed, not surprised by the sight the dark room held for her.
Two blonde little girls lay curled together on one of the two beds, sniffling and whimpering quietly. The longer haired of the two was clutching a blue tattered looking stuffed pig as if it were her only lifeline while the other's eyes were trained on the my little pony night-light. As the door clicked, both sets of eyes flew to her, hopeful. Kylie walked to the bed and sat on the edge of it, and was instantly bombarded as the twins jumped into her arms, crying and shaking. It would be obvious to anyone who saw that this wasn't the first time this had happened. The looks of terror on the two little girls' faces would have been enough to break anyone's heart.
Hushing them gently, Kylie held the two and rocked gently. God, why did they have to do this?, she asked herself. Why couldn't we have a normal life? The twins didn't deserve this. They shouldn't have to feel threatened and terrified of their father whenever he was home. Not that that was often. When he wasn't working construction, he was out drinking and fighting. This had become a ritual of some sort. A petrifying, inhuman ritual. He would work, then go to a bar. Eventually he would come home, at maybe two or three in the morning, and scream about something. It varied, today it was the dishes, tomorrow it may be cobwebs in the corners. Her mother would come out, try to calm him down. They would yell at one another; then, depending on how much he had to drink, he would get violent. That's why Kylie went to the twins' rooms. She would protect them at all costs, even if it meant putting her own life at stake.
She held the younger girls closer and began to hum as the screams got louder, then another loud crash reached her ears. She held her breath for just a few seconds, before her mother's angry cry reached her ears, saying something about the lamp. Not taking any chances, Kylie stood slowly and motioned silently for the twins to move with her to the corner of the room, by the other bed. That way they would be out of sight for a while. Just as they reached their destination, her mother's strangled cry reached her ears, followed by a loud thud. Her father's bellowing voice echoed through the tiny house, but Kylie didn't bother to try and make out his words.
"Emmy, Marie, I need you to play a game with me. I want to you close your eyes really tight, put your hands over your ears and sing very quietly to yourselves. Can you do that?" she asked softly but urgently. The two nodded, their eyes wide and fearful. Kylie smiled reassuringly. "Okay, but the rules are, you can't peak or uncover your ears until I tap you on the shoulder. Okay?" The two nodded again, and Emmy whimpered softly. Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall and her father's voice echoed. "Where are you, you little brats?! Come out and play with daddy!" The dangerous edge in his voice sent shivers of dread down her spine. She tucked the little girls under the bed and stood just as the door burst open.
A tall man stood in the doorway, a beer can in his left hand. His brown hair was disheveled and messy, and his dark green eyes were glazed over and filled with hate. He stared at Kylie blankly for a minute, as if he didn't recognize her. But soon realization dawned on him and a menacing sneer formed on his face. "Kylie, this isn't your bedroom. You said you'd outgrown ponies and princesses," he said tauntingly. She stood unscathed by his remark, and looked at the wall just to the left of his head. "I have, daddy." He stepped toward her slowly, and it took all of her self restraint not to step back. "Then why the hell are you in here?" he growled, suddenly furious again. Kylie had grown accustomed to these mood swings. He was unmanageable and destructive when he was like this.
When she hesitated in answering him, he stumbled toward her, an evil glint in his eyes. Still she refused to back away, refused to show weakness. She wouldn't let him see how she was trembling inside, her heart pounding against her ribcage so furiously that she swore if she were to look down, she'd see its attempt at escape. She gasped as his hand suddenly closed around her neck, nearly cutting of all air flow.
"You look just like your mother. I bet you act just like her too. She always was a whore. Are you a whore, Kylie?" he asked in a dark, sinister voice. He leaned closer and she could smell the rancid scent of whiskey on his breath. She began to shake, her feeble control beginning to crack. It was almost as if she'd been asleep, and had suddenly awakened to a reality far more brutal than her dreams.
"I... I'm no whore, daddy," she whispered, her voice cracking and giving way as he tightened his grip. He sneered at her, though it looked more like a grimace than the fearsome look he intended it to be. Suddenly with and angry cry, he flung he backwards into one of the dressers. The glass figurines on top of it shook at the impact, and Kylie involuntarily let out a soft yelp. Looking up at him, she suddenly realized her mistake as a dark scowl marred his face. Bringing his foot back suddenly, he thrust it forward and almost laughed at the sight of her face scrunched up in pain as she curled up. Again and again, he drove his foot into her body, listening to her sobs.
When he suddenly stopped and dropped to his knees beside her, Kylie was too petrified to look at him. He finally grabbed a hold of her jaw forcefully and made her look at him. What she saw caused her heart to break. His eyes had softened a bit, and he looked remorseful. It was always this part of it that hurt the most.
"Kylie... I'm sorry, baby. But you and your mother make me so angry sometimes. If you would just do as you were told, this wouldn't happen. I never wanted to hurt you. I love you both!" he said, his voice so full of pain that she almost believed him. Almost. But she said the same thing she said almost every night. "We know, daddy. We love you too. We forgive you."
Seeming satisfied with that, he stood suddenly and moved swifty from the room, slamming the door behind him. When she heard her parents' bedroom door slam shut, she released the flood gates and sobbed. Soon, there were two little figures on either side of her, trying to comfort her. "Kye-Kye? Did daddy do something bad again?" Emmy asked softly, always the loving of the two. Marie stood, angry tears in her eyes. "Daddy's so mean to you and mommy! Why do you let him be so mean to you, Kye-Kye?" she demanded. Kylie wrapped her arms around the two and willed herself to control her emotions and her voice. "No, Emmy. It wasn't daddy's fault, I promise." Oh, how she hated lying to them. But what other choice did she have? Then she looked at Marie and sighed. "Daddy can't help it. He doesn't want to be mean. He loves us all very much."
None of them said anything after that. Kylie swept up the twins and placed them in their beds, kissing their foreheads. "Go to sleep. Daddy's getting better. Soon we won't have to do this anymore." She walked to the door and looked back at them before flipping off the light and closing the door behind her. Walking down the hall, she prepared herself to clean up her mother and the mess her father had made.
 Opaque K i t t y · Mon Jan 05, 2009 @ 09:15pm · 0 Comments |
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