Daddy Dearest

"You didn't even know him...besides he wasn't a good father anyways..." Her words sting in my eyes, like the first sense of chlorine grasping your pupils. My lips were dry. I could taste the sticky substance that used to be my, berry bliss lip balm. I was choking on words. There was so much I wanted to scream at her, that it was all bunching into a blob, lodging into my throat, waiting to be first. A tear was my first reaction. Instead of letting her see me so weak, I walked to the bathroom. Closing the door behind me and, just letting it all go. It was strenuous not letting the sobs break free from my chest. As each tear came cascading down my cheeks; I blocked them with a wad of toilet paper. After about five minutes I came out, but only to return to the bedroom. Where she couldn't hurt me anymore.
It has almost been 14 years since he's passed away. My father. The man that gave anything and everything just to make me feel happy, safe, and loved. It doesn't feel like 14 years. Sometimes I'll catch myself crying as if it were yesterday. I remember it like it was yesterday, like a bad dream.
I woke up at his girlfriends house. Usually her daughter was sleeping in the bed next to mine, that night she was gone. So I got up, opened what at the time seemed to be a huge wooden door, and tip-toed to the living room. I remember the carpet was a light creme color, and it was soft underneath my cold toes. The TV was screeching. Screaming in pain for someone to turn it off. I just stared at it for a few seconds, cocking my head to the side, and wrinkling my eyebrows. I presumed, and walked to the kitchen. The main light was on dim giving an ere blue glow to the room. There was a half spilt cup laying on it's side on the monstrous counter. I touched a single drop of liquid, and walked down the dark hallway towards their room. I hated the dark, everything about it made me want to cry, and run. Instead I kept going, creeping down the hallway, just so I didn't wake anyone. I let my three year old hand clasp the doorknob, slowly turning it. Inch by inch. Finally it swung. Revealing everything normal. Except they were gone. The blankets were tasseled in a ball. I don't remember why, but I ran fast into the living room. I threw myself against the main door, hugging my knees to my chest. Soon there was a knock. I bolted upright, only to see her neighbors, smiling down at me. I remember they made me watch Tom and Jerry reruns for a good hour before, my aunt Julie picked me up. I woke up the next morning at my grandma, Rose's house. When I saw my family they were all huddled in my grandma's living room. Crying. Their heads turned to me. They made a path between my mom and me. When I got to her she told me, "Kaila, sweetie, daddy's gone." Somehow I just knew.
So when people make fun of me, or tell me I didn't know my father. I get so furious, that I feel my muscles will snap, from tensing so much. So when she told me I didn't know my father. That's when I wrote my first published poem.
Thanks dad
I love you