miss you. I miss the days when I was a little girl and you would tuck me in at
night, shooing away the monsters from under the bed and out of my closet. When
you came home from a long, exhausting day of work, managing a small and charming
stationery store, though weary you always had a smile for me. You'd pick me up,
squeeze me tight, kiss my cheek, and tell me you missed me. That you loved me.
I even miss the jealousy you roused in Mom. The sidelong glances, the twitch of her mouth, the small wrinkled frown she thought I couldn't see as she turned away, pretending to cook dinner or tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She hid so much from you. But not from me.
There was no denying the truth about the back of her hand against my cheek. Or the crack of my neck when she yanked my hair, dragging me to the little closet beneath the stairs. Every bruise could be explained away (remember how klutzy I was during grade school?) and each sore muscle was hidden behind my smiles.
How could I tell you the truth? How could I break your heart as I watched you embrace the woman you loved, kiss her under the mistletoe, swing her around in your arms as she squealed with delight? You had everything you wanted and deserved. I loved you too much to shatter your perfect world.
In fact, I would gladly spend 1000 more hours in that cramped hellhole if it meant I could hear your voice again, your breath warm against my ear. I would endure the beatings, humiliations, any and all abuse she could dream up if I'd be able to feel your arms around me and the scratch of your weekend stubble tickling my neck. I would do anything to see you again.
Maybe you wouldn't approve of that. Maybe you'd shake your head at me, clucking your tongue, and tell me the mess isn't worth it. You might be right. Perhaps slitting mom's throat from ear to ear doesn't solve anything. But who else's blood could I mix with your grave's dirt? Who else deserved to die to give you life again? It's too late anyway. It's already done. All I have to do now is wait, wait for you to return to me.
Daddy, come home.
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