Knuckle Up

Burning bridges

My night took a distasteful turn when I got home and found my father who made it before me. I wasn’t much delighted with the idea of him being home before me. I’ve made it my mission to stay out of his way while he is intoxicated. We have barely spoken a word to each other in the last couple of months. He is not even aware of what I’ve been up to for the last five years and how I’ve managed to pay his bills. He thinks I have a job that pays well.

I stepped inside the house finding my father in the kitchen trying to work the microwave. He was beating his fist against it as he swore when he couldn’t figure out that he just has to press a button and maybe flick the switch.

“Where have you been? This house is a mess,” My father acknowledged without so much of a hallo. I took in the room and found nothing wrong.

“Working,” I walked over to him, flipped the switch and press the button that required him to heat up his meal.

“Not hard enough,” He scoffed shoving envelopes into my hand.

“What’s this?” I chose to ignore his impoliteness towards me.

“Evidence that you are not working hard enough,” He answered gruffly without looking at me.

I tore the envelopes open to see what he is talking about. “You borrowed money again,” I noted looking at the outstanding amount.

He shrugged his shoulders. “You weren’t doing your job and I needed cash,”

“For what?” I have been taking care of his debt for years. I started to fight due to dangerous people coming over to the house and threatening to beat my father or rape me while they have my father watch. I felt hopeless in the presence of their dark demeanour and how no one blinked when they threatened to sexually abuse me.

“Does it matter? Just make sure you pay it in time,” My father said as if I was working for him.

“No, I’ve been taking care of your bills while you keep slouching around at the bar,” I flicked the piece of paper back over to him. “I am already working two jobs to take care of this house. I won’t take another job just to impress you,”

His harsh and dark laughter took me by surprise. “Impress me? You will never impress me. I wanted a boy and your mother pushed you out. Such a disgrace,”

“Maybe your DNA failed you,” The words left my lips before I could acknowledge them or the fact that my father punched me in the face. The impact of my fall woke me up from my daze and before my father could move in—I scurried away cupping the right side of my face. Haunted memories of him punching me when I was ten years old and how kept coming at me. Leaving me with a bruised nose and eye socket.

“You are not from my blood. You are a worthless piece of s**t. I should have let them take you,” I stared at him in disbelief. A piece of me was hurting from his insults but I was also motivated to have him swallow his words.

“You are right,” I agreed and got to my feet finding his narrowed eyes focusing on me. “I am nothing like you and that’s what makes me a better person than you will ever be,” My whole childhood I had to listen to him putting me down and I kept my mouth shut. Not anymore.

I am tired of being his punching bag. “You want the world to love you but guess what? They moved on. They aren’t stuck on a has-been who turned into a drunk!”

My father came at me again but I was already calculated his move. I caught his fist in my hand and I watched shock unravel in his misty eyes. “I might not be the son you’ve always wanted but I am by far one hell of a fighter,” I shoved him away from me and I headed to my room to pack my bags.

I should have done this a long time ago. I should have stopped caring about his life and instead should have focused on mine. The last time he threw a punch at me was four years ago and I told myself it was because he was drunk but I was done with the excuses. They were hurting and it was time I accepted the truth.

My father laughed when he saw me exit my room with my bags. “You will never become anything without me. I will burn every bridge in your life and I will make sure you will sink to the bottom,”

My father has always believed he is a righteous man and everyone around him is doing wrong. He told everyone in town how pathetic my mother was when she left him. He couldn’t see the truth of what was happening to him and how he is responsible for her depression.

I wasn’t going to become my mother or my father. My road is going to be different compared to theirs and I am going to make sure of it.

“You’ve burned enough bridges in my life. It’s a shame you forgot to burn the bridge between you and me but I guess you can mark it off as done,” I pulled the front door open and stepped outside. Tears were filling my eyes but I kept blinking them away. I wasn’t going to let him get to me, never again.

I caught the bus and took a moment to call coach Mason. My hands were shaking as I tried to scroll through my contacts but I finally managed to dial his number.

“Sabrina?” He answered on the second ring.

“Sorry, to bother you this late, coach,” My voice was breaking as the tears started to fall. “Did you mean what you said when you said I could call you at any time?” Coach Mason always made it his mission to assure me that he has my back. Especially when he learned about how aggressive and abusive my father can be.

“Yes, of course, what’s going on?” He asked.

“I need a place to stay,” I know I was taking a chance but he was all I had apart from my mom but she was halfway across the globe.

“Where are you now?” Coach Mason didn’t even blink.

“On the bus,” I answered and wiped my tears away.

“I will meet you at the bus stop,”

“Thanks, coach,” I said with relief. “I just need a place to stay for tonight, I will be out of your hair as soon as I can arrange a place,” I just had to figure out my next move. Starting with a place of my own and since I got a big cut from tonight's fight. I can start looking for a place right after work.

“Don’t worry about it for now. We’ll work it out,” Coach Mason assured me but somehow I couldn't put my mind to rest.