"It's not fair!" I scream.
"Life isn't fair! I'm your father and you will listen to what I say!" his voice came out slurred as he slammed another empty bottle on the small kitchen table.
"But you never let me do anything! You're always drunk and when you're not you pretend like everything is okay! But it's not okay! Nothing is!"
"You will not talk to me like that, young lady! I raised you, and you will treat me with some respect!" he was standing up now, eyes filling with rage.
"Why should I respect you? You don't care about me! All you care about anymore is your alcohol!" I scream back at my father, not caring what he has to say.
I knew I was going to pay for what I said; probably just another grounding. But I wasn't expecting to see his hand pull back and connect with my face…
Two years ago. That was the first time he hit me. Almost every day, I do something wrong. Talk back, not being home on time, being too loud, sometimes just breathing. And nothing I do is right. He always finds something.
"Maybe I just have to teach you a lesson," he says to me, a bit calmer, as my hand flies up to my throbbing cheek. Tears threaten to fall from my eyes, but I bite my lip to stop them. He's just staring at me for what feels like an eternity, but finally curses under his breath, turns, and leaves.
I stay frozen in my spot for a minute, not believing my father just hit me. I didn't want to believe it.
My mom always told me everything happens for a reason. Before she died, we were the perfect family. No one ever yelled, we always talked, and we understood each other. But after she was gone, my father was driven into drinking. And then came the abuse. That's how hard it hit him. My only question is why? Why did it have to happen to me? If everything happens for a reason, why did this have to happen to me?
"How was school today, sweetie?" my father asks me from the kitchen table as I walk in. I try not to cringe at the overpowering smell of his latest drinking spree.
"Okay," I respond quietly, walking quickly to the staircase, hoping to get past without another scream match. Surprisingly, he doesn't say anything else as I rush to my room, quietly shutting and locking the door behind me. It won't do any good though. He's already busted down a few.
I threw my book bag to the side and lay down on my bed. I tried to get some sleep, since the night before I was kept up by my father yelling from his bedroom. My eyelids didn't protest. They practically fell shut the minute I flopped onto my bed. It didn't take long to drift out of consciousness.
My eyes flew open in an instant. Footsteps. Loud, stomping footsteps. 'Why is he coming up here?' I thought. 'I didn't do anything!'
All of a sudden, they stopped. No more creaks of protest from the old floorboards. What's he doing? Then the pounding came. He was outside my bedroom, throwing his fists as hard as he could against the door. Wonder how long it'll last this time.
"Open this door right now, young lady!" he screams through the wood. "I will break it down if I have to!"
Thinking through all the different outcomes, I figured staying where I was and not making a sound was my best bet. He was pretty drunk, and the last few times it took him almost ten minutes until he could break down the door. He'll probably pass out before he knocks it down.
"I'm not kidding! If I break down this door, you're dead!" he screamed. That caught my attention. He never threatened my life before. "I'm serious Kimberly! Open this door!"
I quickly got up and scurried to the door. He never uses my full name, heck he never uses any name for me. He must have heard me get up because he stopped the pounding. I hesitated before opening the door, not sure what to expect. I slowly turned the handle and pulled the door open. There was my father, rage filled eyes staring daggers into me, looking more ticked off than ever.
I shrank back into my room as he started closer to me. With every step, he was getting madder and madder, if that was even possible. I finally reached the wall, and started sliding down to the floor. Once my butt hit the rough carpet, my father stopped and spoke.
"What the hell were you doing?! I was calling you for a half hour and you never responded!" he yelled.
"I'm sorry, I was exhausted and fell asleep," I replied sheepishly.
"Oh you 'fell asleep,'" he said mockingly. "I'm the one keeping food on the table and a roof over your head, and you repay me by falling asleep when I need you? That's not how it works." He took a few more steps towards me, until he was looming over me. "Get up," he said through gritted teeth. I wanted to scream, but that wouldn't do any good. It might catch him off guard, but he'd probably kill me. I wanted to cry too, but I've been through too much to do that. No, I'm tougher than crying, that's just a sign of weakness, something that shows you lost.
"Get up!" he screamed down at me from my hesitation. He leaned down and grabbed my shirt collar, pulling me to my feet. He didn't let go. He pulled me up off my feet and slammed me into the wall, hard enough to make the entire house shake. Even when he was drunk, he was really strong, which is really bad for me.
"You don't deserve me as a father. I do so many things for you and get treated like crap," he seethed.
"No. You don't deserve me as your daughter," I started, not having any clue where this newfound confidence came from. "You treat me like I'm nothing. You use most of the money we get on your alcohol. And I keep this house from falling apart. Do you really want to say this is my fault?"
I tried to stay as calm as possible, even though I think I was shaking. My father's face got redder with every word I said, and his grip on my shirt got tighter, nearly choking me. For a while we had a stare down. Then all hell broke loose.
His fist came flying up, connecting right next to my left eye. He threw me into the wall, over and over, as hard as he could. I heard a faint snap, but couldn't tell if it was my back or the wall, or maybe both. He dropped me after about the seventh time going into the wall, only to kick me hard on my ribs, pushing me right back into the wall. I doubled over instantly, but he grabbed me by my neck, forcing me to look into his face.
"You never learn your lesson, do you? You're pathetic. Just remember this," he pulled me up again, still by the neck, choking me this time. He pulled my face inches from his, making me smell his alcohol-scented breath. "I am your father. You will respect me. I could get a lot worse than this, so let this serve as a warning." He kept me there for a few extra seconds before dropping me and punching me in the same place he had kicked me, and then stormed out of my room, slamming the door behind him.
I dropped to my knees and doubled over, clutching my stomach and coughing violently. Everything hurt. It took every ounce of energy I had left to crawl over to my bathroom, which thankfully was connected to my room, and try to see how injured I was. I got up in front of the mirror and saw a bruise already forming around my eye. Carefully lifting up my shirt, I looked at my ribs and back and boy was it an ugly sight. My back was bruising as well, but I could almost see one of my ribs cracked.
I knew I was going to be sore for a while, but couldn't really do anything about it. I would've gotten an ice pack, but there was no way I was going downstairs with that monster, so I settled on taking painkillers. Wincing at the pain, I started going back to my bed, slowly. I looked over at the wall where I was slammed against and noticed it was dented, but it didn't surprise me. What did, though, were the dark clouds that were rolling in, and the wind was really picking up. Weird, I didn't think it was supposed to storm today.
I just shrugged it off and carefully lay down on my bed, trying not to provoke any of my new injuries. I heard my phone go off just as I got comfortable, but I wasn't going to try and get it. So I just lay there, thinking about how much my life sucks. I tried not to, but I must have drifted off, because I opened my eyes to the sound of the window rattling as if it was about to shatter from the force of the wind.
I quickly sat up, but soon regretted it as my stomach started screaming with pain. Ignoring it as best I could, I noticed my phone start going off again and not stop. I got up as fast as the pain would let me to see my best friend had texted and called me about thirty times. I opened up a couple messages and noticed he was concerned for some reason, but really didn't say why. The one that caught my eye was the one that said he was coming over, which he sent five minutes ago, and that's how far away he lived from me.
I couldn't tell him not to come though, because I looked out the window and saw him in my front yard, about to come in. I started for my door, until I heard a crash from behind. I turned, and the window broke from the wind. What is going on?
And then I saw it. Tornado.
At first I was stunned, but soon broke out of it as I heard my name being yelled from downstairs. I quick turned and, ignoring the pain, ran to my best friend as quick as I could.
"Kim! Come on! We have to get out of here!" I heard him call to me. I wasn't sure where he was, but found him in the living room looking at my father who was passed out on the couch, wondering what to do with him. When he heard me come, he looked up, and his worry turned to concern as he saw my bruised eye and face contorted in pain. He ran over to me.
"Oh my God, Kim, what happened?" he asked, running up to me. I didn't say anything though, and was just staring at the monster passed out on the couch that did this to me. Jack noticed me staring at him, and asked, "Did he do this to you?"
I never told anyone that my father abused me. I didn't want anyone feeling pity for me. I was better than that. But I couldn't plainly say no to Jack, so I slowly nodded my head. I finally looked at him and noticed his face soften with care, but then turn to anger knowing he was standing in the same room as someone who hurt me.
For a while, we stared at each other, as if the silence could provide the unanswered questions that we both had. But reality soon came back to us as we could hear the wind intensify outside.
"Okay, you need to get to the shelter, now! I'll be right there, just hurry and go," Jack said, pushing me to the door.
"What are you gonna do? Why aren't you coming now?" I asked in protest.
"Kim, just go!" he pushed me a little harder and went the other way. I tried not to scream out since he pushed right where my back was slammed against the wall. I bit my lip instead, and went to follow him, not wanting to leave him alone.
I almost ran into him as he was coming back from what I guessed was the kitchen since he had a couple ice packs and painkillers in his hands.
"What are you doing? I told you to get out! Now let's go!" he had to scream to be heard over the wind. I didn't protest this time, instead I scurried to the door and outside. As I was about to run to the shelter, I was stopped by Jack screaming again.
"Wait! What about your father?"
I just turned towards him, gave him a look that said 'are you serious right now?' and ran to the shelter. The wind whipped against me, but I ignored it as best I could. Now scrambling, I tried to open the door but the force of the wind kept pushing it shut. I soon felt Jack helping, though, and we managed to open it together.
Once we were both down, Jack started with the questions I knew would come sooner or later.
"Why did you make me let your father there?" he asked. I was surprised that that was his first question, but started with the first of many answers.
"He's a monster," I said plainly.
"But he's still your father," he returned. I quickly turned to fully face him, which was a big mistake. I had been moving for too long, and now finally being still the pain came back, worse than before. I squeezed my eyes shut and dropped to my knees, clutching my ribs again. I felt Jack take my other hand in his and place his other on my back, only to find out that my back was injured too, so he quickly removed it.
"How bad did he hurt you?" he asked in a calm, soothing voice. I just slowly shook my head, at a loss for words. Jack moved so he was in front of me and I opened my eyes, tears threatening to fall. "Come here," he said as he helped me up, leading me over to the one bed in the room.
"What did he do to you?" he asked me as I lay down. He sat on the edge next to me before I answered.
"Do you really want to know the horror that I have to call my life?" I asked him. He considered it for a second, and then slowly nodded. I sighed. "He hits me. Every day, he gets drunk and hits me. I don't do anything half the time. He blames me for the crap in his life." I pause, debating about telling him how this all started. I don't know if I'm ready to relive what happened a couple years ago. It still hurts to think about it. But something changes once I look in his eyes. He knows I'm holding something back.
"Kim, please. What are you not telling me?" Jack was basically begging me. He could read me like an open book. Something inside me snapped, and I knew I had to tell him. I looked back up at the ceiling of the shelter before continuing.
"I never told anyone exactly what happened to my mom. All I told you and everyone else was that there was an accident. But no one knows my mom died saving me. There was a drunk driver when we were crossing the street. My mom pushed me out of the way to save me, and she was killed on impact. I didn't have a scratch on me. When my father was told, he went into shock. It was like he died with her, and another man was reborn into his body. But it was still him. Every now and then I could see the real him, my real father. But then he started getting drunk each night, and so began the verbal abuse. A year later came the physical. And somehow, I've been able to put up with it all." I had to stop there. I had started crying somewhere in the middle of telling Jack, and the tears wouldn't stop now.
I felt like I couldn't do anything, so all I did was close my eyes. I felt Jack's gentle hands on my face, carefully wiping my tears away as if I'd break under his touch. We were both silent for a while, the only noise coming from the howling wind outside.
Finally, Jack spoke up. "It's all right, Kim. He won't hurt you anymore. If he miraculously makes it out of the house alive through the tornado, I'll make sure to murder him with my own hands."
My tears started slowing down and I finally looked at him. Jack went to gently wipe away my tears, avoiding the obvious spot where the monster hit me. For once in my life, though, I was happy. Happy Jack was with me, happy my father was going to die, happy my life might actually get better. I did my best to smile up at Jack, but it might have been more a grimace from my crying and the pain.
"What all hurts, Kim? What did he do to you?" I knew he was going to eventually ask, and I was finally calm enough to answer.
"I think a couple of my ribs are cracked, my back is either bruised or something is broke, and my head is pounding," I replied slightly casually, trying not to make a big deal since I've dealt with being hurt before.
Jack got up quick and grabbed the painkillers and ice packs. He came back and got two pills out. He helped me sit up, slowly, and I took them. Once I lay back down, he put the ice pack on my stomach and lay next to me, gently draping a protective arm around me.
"Kim, I'm really sorry all this happened to you. I promise on my life I will never let anything like this happen to you again. I hate to see you hurt, and I swear if anyone even lays a finger on you I will kill them," Jack took a deep breath and I looked over at him. "I love you Kim. I've loved you since the first day I saw you. I wish I had said it before, then maybe this wouldn't have led this far. But we're here and this is happening, but I still love you all the same."
I was awe-struck. Jack Brewer just admitted he loves me. The Jack 'Always-Saves-The-Day' Brewer. I just then realized I hadn't answered him and my mouth was hanging open. I quickly shut it and answered him. "Jack, I love you too. I wanted to tell you this was happening, but I couldn't. I didn't think you'd take it well, or you'd just take pity on me. I thought it would ruin our friendship, but now I know that will never happen. I just…I don't know. It's all confusing and…" Jack stopped me from stuttering and leaned in to kiss me. I've been waiting for him to kiss me for forever. I never thought it would be after he found out about my horrible life and in the middle of a tornado.
The kiss didn't last long, but it seemed to go on for a century. When we finally broke apart, both gasping for breath, Jack stared at me with his beautiful brown eyes and said, "No matter what, I will always love you Kim."
We each laid back down, Jack putting his arm back over me and me snuggling into his side, laying my head on his chest. We both drifted asleep smiling, and I knew that my life was finally going to get better.