10 Years Ago
Jamie
The slap rang in my ears, and the pain that flared across my cheek was hot and stinging. So sharp, it stole the air from my lungs.
Or maybe it was shock that had me sucking in a ragged gasp.
He’d hit me.
My father fucking hit me.
He stared at me with glassy eyes like he was looking through me. Like he didn’t recognize what he’d done. Or worse, like he didn’t care.
No apology. No regret. Not even an angry curse.
Nothing.
He stood with his fists clenched at his sides, jaw locked tight, and rage humming off him.
His silence cut deeper than the smack he’d just delivered, and something inside me cracked under the weight of it. I’d known things were bad, but this felt final. Like whatever we’d been—father and daughter, a team once upon a time—was already gone.
I pressed my palm to my burning cheek, trying to make sense of how we’d gotten here.
How had we fallen so far apart?
I’d come to him for help. For reassurance. For any sign that the man I used to rely on still existed underneath the anger and alcohol.
My dad. Daddy if I reached back far enough.
I wanted to believe he could pull himself together, even a little, for me. For the future.
Except he was too deep in his own grief and self-pity to be the father I needed. Too drowned by booze to see the truth. And there was nothing I could do to change it.
Still, I wouldn’t let him pull me down with him.
A small, steady spark lit somewhere inside me. Not strong or confident. It was only enough to keep me standing.
I lowered my hand and let him see the swelling on my cheek. Let him see what he’d done. I wanted it to register, even if only for a second.
His anger only tightened, rolling through him until it finally cracked open.
“I’m glad your mother’s not alive to see you now. To know what you’ve done.” His words slurred, spit flying from his lips. “She’d be disgusted. I’m disgusted. You’re nothing but a whore.”
Tears welled, finally overflowing as I choked on his distorted truth. I swallowed back the urge to scream, to throw every hurt part of me right back at him.
Instead, I gave him exactly what he’d given me. Nothing.
In silence, I turned and walked away.
His shouting followed me, along with the smashing of innocent objects, but I didn’t slow. Each step felt like prying myself loose. Not just from him, but from this house full of broken promises. From this whole goddamn town that had watched and whispered while I tried to hold together what was left of my family.
I was done trying to fix something I hadn’t broken. Something that couldn’t be fixed.
It was time to build something better. Something mine.
Fueled by his rage, I chose a brighter future.
I ran.
