It was an almost nonexistent crash, a small clatter that I heard downstairs, that under normal circumstances wouldn't raise any worry to a normal person, but as a family, we were beyond normal, leading me to search for the source of the disturbance.
Slowly, I creeped down the stairs, worried of the level of how drunk my father really was. Even from the foot of the stairs, the pungent scent of spilled beer penetrated into the hallway, a drink my father did not usually have.
"Dad?" I called out into the dark abyss. It was late and dark, a Sunday evening, the day after my birthday party, where I woke up with a raging hangover and bruised lips.
I hated Sundays. Things always seemed to go wrong on Sundays.
Another bump.
"Dad, where are you?" I walked into the living room, taken aback by the huge mess I sawâ that he made while still being silent.
The floor was soaked with the beer, a broken case of beer crunching under my shoes as I ventured deeper into the room, the coffee table toppled over, and a few dropped picture frames that littered the wet carpet. The T.V was on, flickering blue light across the room and a quiet hum of static drowning out whatever else my dad was doing.
His body staggered into the room, dark and all-consuming. I stepped back instinctively, the crunch of glass under my shoes giving notice to my father that I was there. "Dad?"
The darkness I had naively hoped had disappeared was backâ he was cold once more, shutting his daughters out, drowning his pain in alcohol and anti-depressants, making all attempts to blame his misery on us, two teenagers.
His eyes narrowed at me and he shook a finger at me, advancing quickly on me. "You," he growled menacingly, sour breath blowing hotly into my face. "You're going to end up just like me," he laughed, hiccuping in the middle, "alone."
I swallowed, my heart racing, a sudden fear that one of those beer bottles would be smashed at me, a fear that my father would lash out at Angelica and I in the way only my drunk father could.
What happened to the father I knew last night? The one that sang to me and brought up my mother and celebrated my birthday willingly?
"You're not alone Dad, you have us," I replied quietly, refusing to step back and show that I was terrified, despite me being scared out of my mind.
He belched, beer fumes permeating the air, "And look where that's gotten me, I have two daughters, one a splitting image of me, the other my fucking dead wife," he threw an arm out, that hit me squarely in the chest, his eyes widening in immediate shock.
I stumbled back, almost losing my balance and falling into the glass shards, dazed and confused, and stared at him incredulously.
He too seemed confused, concerned maybe, and mumbled the words 'I'm sorry' over and over again. He reached forward toward me, his eyes glazed over, less worry contorting his face and more confusion, more suppressed rage.
I took two steps back, fearful. I'm sure he hadn't meant to hit me, but the fact was that he did, and it was just that one action that made the panic rise in my chest, my breathing shorten as I stared back at the man who was not my father.
He seemed taller, more daunting, dangerous even, and I shrunk back, afraid if we would lay a hand on me again, worse, try to hurt Angelica. That thought alone chilled me to the core, the image of my father's drunken actions being inflicted on my small, kind younger sister. Lifting my eyes to his, I hardened finding the strength the get the fuck away from him.
"Angelica!" I called out, turning quickly out of the room and bounding up the stairs. The soft grunt and smash of more glass didn't hinder me at all, in fact I strode straight into Angelica's room without knocking, desperate to leave this God forsaken house. "We're leaving, now. Pack some clothes."
She looked scared shitless, sitting at her desk doing homework, and her soft, doe-like eyes widened up at me. "What did he do Alice?" She spoke still softer, hushed as if our father heard us, the consequences would be worse.
Uncomfortable, I rubbed at the goosebumps on my arms. "I was in his wayâ we should stay out of his way tonight," I warned, "it's a bad night, one of the worse."
She stood, walking to me and pulled me into a tight hug. "Are you okay?" She whispered.
I crumbled in her arms, clinging tightly to her, clinging to the only other person who would ever be able to understand the intensity of the fear we felt on the daily basis. The only person I truly felt safe enough to see me crumble like this, because of him.
We never felt safe in this house anymore, and it never got easy, no matter how many times we've witnessed before. "I'll be okay," my tone mocked her own, and I pondered what our father had turned us into: scared little girls.
He was supposed to teach us to be strong.
But we were everything but.
I pulled back, holding her at an arms distance. "We're going to Ryder's, be ready in five."
This time was different. This time we didn't have to wait it out, because Ryder had granted me a safe place, a safe place for Angelica and I, and I had no intentions of letting it become a fruitless gift.
â¦
This house was not quiet.
Angelica and I were shaken by the similar sounds of glass shattering and muffled screams and arguing, something I had not expected to hear on a Sunday evening at the Thompson residence, as I protectively stood in front of her, blocking her from the sounds we heard from the living room, the room where I knew Ryder was, Ryder, and undoubtedly, Eros.
He stormed out of the room next to us, hard sapphire eyes flickering to mine and over my sister briefly before his shoulder collided harshly with my own, sending my body straight into Angelica who held me steady. He swung open the door to the house and stalked out, back tense and poised, like a cat ready to pounce.
What happened?
"Ryder?" Angelica and I clung to each other as we walked into the room, the similarity of it being like our father's rage terrifying us. The sounds, the lack of light, it was a bit too much if we were being honest. I kept my hand interlocked with hers tightly, afraid somehow that she'd see too much, that there was too much I couldn't protect her from.
Ryder stood amidst the mess, the mess that I knew my best friend had made, the twinkling shards of broken liquor glasses literally the floor, the tipped over brandy bottle, spilling it's amber liquid, staining the beige carpet with it's amber sheen.
His arms remained clenched at his sides, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he absently gazed at the spot where Eros had just left from.
"Ryder." I repeated, albeit more harshly than necessary but the need to have the safety and security only he could provide overpowering that.
"Angelica please go upstairs I need to talk to your sisterâalone."
Although the relationship between my sister and Ryder was weak and awkward, dependent wholly upon myself, Angelica followed his instructions, giving my hand one last squeeze before I felt her presence leave.
"What happened?" I couldn't help myself from asking the relenting question that repeated over and over in my mind.
He looked up at me, taking two long strides before pulling me into a tight hug.
"I'm glad you're here."
"Ryder," I persisted, "Why is Eros so angry? Where did he go?"
"I think the better question is why are you here Alice," Ryder started softly. "You've never brought your sister over, so why now?"
I felt myself weaken in his arms, but Ryder, strong and unrelenting like the trees that surrounded the town held me fast, his strength overpowering my lack of will.
"My dad was having a bad day."
Ryder hugged me tighter, his overwhelming scent of home and comfort and safety surrounding me.
"So was Eros."
â¦
so let's not talk about my exorbant amount of time i took off and instead focus on the banner i tried to make??? yeah i still don't get it but like, i'm trying to be #coolandhip and it's obviously failing.
oh well.
I'M GLAD TO BE BACK BITCHES!!!!!! <3 <3 <3
all my love