Powerless [Clairebear]
Apr 15, 2012 19:28:17 GMT -5
Post by zoey on Apr 15, 2012 19:28:17 GMT -5
The stench of liquor seeps under my door as it reaches my nose; all I can do is ignore it. Ignoring it may not make it disappear from my life, but I would rather live in my world full of ignorance and fake facades; than what is my reality. With a stroke of my brush I dive into the world that is my art.
The silvers and blues; reflect in my eyes creating the mirage of a perfect world. A world I wish I could be a part of. My brush glides along the canvas creating buildings that reach towards the golden hues of the sky. Everything appears serene almost peaceful, but that is destroyed when I hear the shatter. That sound is familiar to me the sound of glass skittering across the floor; broken and discarded. The noises that follow don't catch me off guard I am expecting them. The heavy footsteps that belong to a man drunk beyond his mind grow closer and closer.
I concentrate on my painting trying to block out everything. I won't let him intimidate me no matter what he does. My door bursts open and the figure of the man who is supposed to be my father looms in the doorway. I keep my eyes focused on my painting not daring to look at him. I have been expecting this. Especially today of all days; the anniversary of my mother's disappearance. She saved my younger brother and sister and disappeared into the night; leaving me behind.
Always the one left behind; casted to the side. I have accepted the fact that I will never be good enough for anyone, so many years ago. I never thought that by seventeen I would feel so useless; so powerless.
"What the hell are you doing?" My father's slurred speech reaches my ears and I don't answer him; not caring about the consequences my actions will bring.
"Did you not hear me?" His voice rises as he walks closer to me ripping my canvas from my hands. I watch as he throws my painting to the ground smearing the paint across the floor. My version of a perfect world shattered.
I still refuse to meet his eyes; I will not give in. I know I could hurt him he has trained me since birth. From this position I can see at least five different ways to snap his neck. I can see several items around my room I could use to suffocate him. I can feel the steel of my blade pressed against my skin in my boot; I can see the pulse of his main artery running along his neck that I could easily slice open. But for some reason I don't attack. I'll accept what is about to happen.
In a moment I feel the contact of his precious liquor bottle against my skull. Pain courses through my head, but it is a sensation I am used to by now. "Painting is a waste of time! It will do you no good in the arena!" His cruel voice fills the room. Nobody knows about the horrors that take place in this home. The bruises that are pounded into my skin, the blood that spills from the surface. Nobody can know.
In a swift moment I am on me feet catching my father off guard causing him to fall backwards. I use this moment to my advantage and step over his scrambling figure and head towards the door. "Bladen get your a*s back here I am not done with you!" I ignore his calls as I slam the front door closed behind me.
I relish in the moment the cool wind hits my face as I put as much distance between myself and that place I have to call home.
The silvers and blues; reflect in my eyes creating the mirage of a perfect world. A world I wish I could be a part of. My brush glides along the canvas creating buildings that reach towards the golden hues of the sky. Everything appears serene almost peaceful, but that is destroyed when I hear the shatter. That sound is familiar to me the sound of glass skittering across the floor; broken and discarded. The noises that follow don't catch me off guard I am expecting them. The heavy footsteps that belong to a man drunk beyond his mind grow closer and closer.
I concentrate on my painting trying to block out everything. I won't let him intimidate me no matter what he does. My door bursts open and the figure of the man who is supposed to be my father looms in the doorway. I keep my eyes focused on my painting not daring to look at him. I have been expecting this. Especially today of all days; the anniversary of my mother's disappearance. She saved my younger brother and sister and disappeared into the night; leaving me behind.
Always the one left behind; casted to the side. I have accepted the fact that I will never be good enough for anyone, so many years ago. I never thought that by seventeen I would feel so useless; so powerless.
"What the hell are you doing?" My father's slurred speech reaches my ears and I don't answer him; not caring about the consequences my actions will bring.
"Did you not hear me?" His voice rises as he walks closer to me ripping my canvas from my hands. I watch as he throws my painting to the ground smearing the paint across the floor. My version of a perfect world shattered.
I still refuse to meet his eyes; I will not give in. I know I could hurt him he has trained me since birth. From this position I can see at least five different ways to snap his neck. I can see several items around my room I could use to suffocate him. I can feel the steel of my blade pressed against my skin in my boot; I can see the pulse of his main artery running along his neck that I could easily slice open. But for some reason I don't attack. I'll accept what is about to happen.
In a moment I feel the contact of his precious liquor bottle against my skull. Pain courses through my head, but it is a sensation I am used to by now. "Painting is a waste of time! It will do you no good in the arena!" His cruel voice fills the room. Nobody knows about the horrors that take place in this home. The bruises that are pounded into my skin, the blood that spills from the surface. Nobody can know.
In a swift moment I am on me feet catching my father off guard causing him to fall backwards. I use this moment to my advantage and step over his scrambling figure and head towards the door. "Bladen get your a*s back here I am not done with you!" I ignore his calls as I slam the front door closed behind me.
I relish in the moment the cool wind hits my face as I put as much distance between myself and that place I have to call home.
