The gathering was boring per usual. I was making myself a snack the next day when I heard a loud bang. It was a gunshot close by. Instantly I fell to the floor and tears ran down my cheeks as my whole body stopped too stunned to move. The day my life changed replayed in my head. I was ten and my dad had been wasted. My mother was high, drunk, and was pissed at him for sneaking into the house at 1 am. Out of rage and alcohol, they started the nightly screaming matches. At this time I was meant to be in bed but I learned not to fall asleep till the fighting stopped and everyone else went to bed. There was never a point to sleep when I was just going to be woken again. I learned to calm myself after that. After she died, I never did well with loud noises.
I finally had a day where it was just me and nothing to do. I went into my personal library and grabbed my favorite book. Since I had nothing going on and he wasn't home, I had a baggy tee and jogging pants on. Being in my own world, I didn't notice him leaning against the door frame. I hear him start laughing and I glance up at him. He slowly walked over to me and started to read my book over my shoulder. His cologne is strong. I look up at him as his hand slides down to my wrist. Slowly each scar is traced over with his thumb. His hand grips my wrist and he brings it to meet his cold lips. Quickly kissing the top of my head, he walks out. No yelling, no fighting. Nothing about the interaction was normal.