I cowered behind the living room wall, right next to the sofa and the red lamp that I hate, the one with the silly chain that you pull to turn it on and the awful hat. I have always hated that lamp, ever since the day Papa brought it home. It was supposed to be a present for Mama, but the second he gave it to her, she disliked it. She said that it just didn`t fit in with the living room`s colors enough.
Papa wasn`t pleased, at all. I knew he had wanted to please Mama, especially after what had happened the previous night. They had had a bit of a bad argument and I guess Papa was trying to make it up to her. Yet she wouldn`t accept it; only because it wasn`t the right colors.
Though that next day after school, I walked into the living room to see that same lamp sitting on a stand next to the sofa and the wall that was closest to the kitchen. I had been puzzled. Hadn`t Mama disliked that lamp? Or had she given it a chance?
I didn`t dare ask. Mama and Papa both seemed to be in a bad mood at dinner that night. We ate our dinner silently. I was the only one that tried to make conversation…and failed. I was told to be quiet and eat instead of making useless conversation. I was hurt, yet refused to show it. I ate my dinner then excused myself. It was as if my parents didn`t even notice my leaving.
Later that night, I heard them downstairs in the living room. There was muttering, that changed to shouting quickly. I was listening, yet knew I shouldn`t be. It went on for hours. I had put my hands over my ears earlier, though it wasn`t blocking out anything especially the shouts downstairs. I had brought my knees to my chest and let my hair fall onto them. I had long turquoise hair that Mama tied up into pigtails. She said she didn`t want me tripping over it and I needed something done with it. My hair was extremely long for a ten year old.
I must`ve been there for at least an hour and a half when the shouting stopped, there was a slam of the front door and padding of footsteps on the stairs. The door had opened and my dear Papa stumbled through it. I had taken my hands off my ears and shot over to him. He`d hugged me, crying. I had cried too, in confusion. I didn`t know what was going on. Why had they been shouting? Papa didn`t say anything, just hugged me tighter.
Mama left us. She left us a week after that argument and never came back. She had gone out and had met some man and she was leaving town with him. Just like that. Papa said nothing; he was very shocked as was I. Mama was leaving?
She had gathered up her things and left with a simple goodbye. She didn`t ask me to come with her. Maybe I was to blame. I stayed with Papa; he would never leave. Right?
"I promise my princess." He`d mutter when I`d ask, but he`d always be looking far off into the distance, gazing right through me.
He changed. He started drinking. He would use all the money he earned and spend it on bad drink. He didn`t seem to care about our home anymore. It became a mess in less than three weeks. Papa became lazy, selfish and drunk. I would be forced to run the house. I had to run errands and more for money, and even then my efforts were wasted as the money was spent on more drink.
Demon drink, Mama would say if she was here. But she wasn`t.
I changed too. My turquoise hair grew longer, I went through puberty and I worked. Whilst my Papa sat and did nothing. He just watched. He would never get up to help, not even once. It saddened me how much he changed, how much we both changed. I was used to being a ten year old with two parents, a nice house and love. I had lost all three of those privellages. I changed to a twelve year old with one parent, a messy house and no love.
I learned that Mama got married to that man and had two baby boys. They all lived happily ever after whilst I had been stripped of my happy ending. Papa didn`t seem to care at all about happy endings, or me in fact. It was as if I wasn`t even there half the time.
It got worse when we received the news.
Mama died. We got word a few days after and were invited to her funeral. Papa at least saved up some money so we were decent. I wore a black dress that reached down to my ankles and flat black shoes. My hair was in regular bunches, with black ribbons. I stood by Papa`s side as he cried and held his hand as the coffin was lowered into the ground. My legs had grown cold and numb as the chilled wind climbed up them. I had looked up at Papa that day, noticing how awful he looked. Messy faded turquoise hair, bloodshot blue eyes, pale skin. He was unshaved, shaking and stank of drink. Everyone was looking. I had had to lead him out of that graveyard and home. Staying for lunch wasn`t even an option. We both knew what would happen then.
Papa had grown worse. He cried, drank and slept. I couldn`t do anything about it. He had changed so much… The damage was done. Mama was gone, and so was my Papa. School was barely an option for me anymore. My teachers would want to speak to Papa, want to know why I was so quiet, why I couldn`t concentrate, and then all hell would break loose.
Everything had went wrong. And all because of that stupid red lamp.