My dad opened the door, turned on the lights and
walked in the room. He was brandishing a pair of scissors. I was in bed naked. He stumbled over and tore the sheets back.
“ I'm going to save you all the fucking trouble I ever
had.” He hissed.
I could smell the booze on his breath. I kicked him
off and he fell like a sack of shit on the floor laughing. My mom came in and
carted him off into the other room as quietly as she could.
The next day I woke up to the smell of his silk cut.
He lay in bed and had one before and one after his cup of tea that my mom always made him.
I heard my mom vomiting in the toilet. She’d just
recently gone through her second stint of chemo.
“Daz can you get in here I’m really ill”
“What do you think I am love, your fucking slave?”
He was still pissed.
The walls were paper thin in the house. I could hear
everything.
Every time he left for work “tell him to get a fucking job" being the most popular farewell. I tried to stay in my room till he left.
Sometimes I even pissed in bottles because I didn't want to walk across
the landing just in case I got caught in the cross fire between him and her or
worse... a head on argument.These didn't happen very often but when they did they always got out of hand.
I was pouring the contents of one of the bottles down
the toilet as I heard the door slam a second time. My mom had left for the
hospital.
