Page 8 of Pretty Broken Wings
The arm snaps out of nowhere. I forgot how fast Dad is. He snatches my shoulder up, gripping me so hard I let out a cry. I feel every one of his fingers digging into my shoulder.
“Why are you so disobedient, huh?” He shakes me, and my head snaps forward. I’m washed in sudden embarrassment at how weak I look. I’m not being strong. The girl in my book wouldn’t look like this.
“Please sto?—”
Crack. I hear it before I feel it. Suddenly, there’s a warm wash over my eye, and behind it is an explosion of pain.
“... defy me… ” Dad is saying something, but I can’t hear it. My ear is ringing. Why is my ear ringing? And my face hurts so bad, I think I need to throw up.
“Please stop.” The tone is mocking, and my dad’s in my face, sneering. I blink, trying to see straight again.
“All day, all you do is sass me. I try to teach you how to obey. How to be a productive member of society. How do you ever expect to succeed if you’re like this?”
The pain that felt like when I stuck my hand on the stove now boils down to a throb, and I gasp at the relief between pulses.
“Please stop,” Dad laughs. “You did this to yourself. Now, what do you say?”
“S-s-sorry.” I realize that I’m crying. Why am I crying? But it’s only from one side. The side where the pain is coming from. My nose is leaking, too.
Then suddenly, Dad lets me go with a snort. I drop back on the bed, gripping the sheets, trying to keep the real tears in.
I’m wrapped up in that horrible feeling between staying strong and crying while Dad paces in front of me. I spot Onyx lying on her side, and with a rush, I realize she’s probably sad. She never likes it when Dad and I fight. I just want to give her a hug. I don’t want her to be sad.
Then, Dad stops. He takes a breath in, and in that silence, I try to breathe. Only, the breath comes in so loud, and it sounds like I’m hiccuping.
“Son of a bitch.”
I tense, and then Dad is there, sitting on the bed next to me. “Fuck, I try so hard to help you.” Suddenly, his arms are around me, and he wraps me in a tight hug. We sit there for a long time, me angry and stiff, and him just holding me. But as time passes, my back bends over, and my fingers on the bedspread let go.
“Come here.” Dad pulls me in closer, and I don’t fight him. I’m so tired. So, so tired. It feels like that one time I stayed up all night.
“We’ll get through this,” Dad says, squeezing me once. “I do this because I love you.”
I swallow. What if he left marks on me? What if someone sees them?
“This is what love is. Forgiving each other and moving on.”
He squeezes tighter. “I love you, Celeste.”
I’m mad, but it feels like a distant haze. Dad still loves me. He may have been mad, but he still loves me. He’s going to be happy again.
“I forgive you. Okay?” Dad seems to wait for my response.
I don’t want to talk. My face still hurts, and I just want to sleep.
“Okay?” Dad asks again, a little louder.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“And?”
I stare at my pants, picking at a spot on them.
“Celeste.” There’s a note of warning in his voice.
“And I forgive you, too.”
“Good girl.” He kisses the top of my head. “Love you, baby bird.”
