Tired. That’s what I felt. I get out of my beat up cherry red Chevy. I was emotionally drained from everything. I walk into my house and look around taking it all in. I look at the wallpaper that is peeling around the tapered corners, the floors that have scratches on the wood, and I see the bottles scattered all around the kitchen. I sigh and wonder if he even got out of bed today. I creep upstairs hoping I don’t make noise. As I get to the hallway, I stop and see the giant hole in the wall. He must have had a breakdown. If I don’t wake him up now, I will pay for it later. I place my hand on the rusted copper door knob, and then remove it. I step back and glance at the door that has seen to many episodes; with the patched up holes, blood stains, and my height marked in pencil from when I was 9. I take a breath and lean against the doorway.
“Dad,” I whisper. “Dad I’m home, wake up,” I say a little louder.
He roars to life and shoots up off the bed and grabs the first bottle off the nightstand. I just stand there because I know if I run, I won’t get far. He flings the empty Jack Daniels at me. I duck and the bottle cracks against the frame. Sticky glass shatters around me. I crouch in the fetal position on the floor.
“Not running anymore huh? You just give up? I didn’t raise my daughter to give up. Fight me, I dare you,” he spits.
I shake my head. The swift kick to my abdomen tells me that wasn’t the right answer. I groan as another one lands on my ribcage. He pulls me up by my sweatshirt. I start struggling, trying to make him stop. I smell the whiskey leak from his mouth. He lowers his head and breathes in my ear.
“Now you try and struggle, well sweetheart it’s too late. I know you’re weak and useless. Wouldn’t you agree?”
He pushes me away and my back slams into the wood. He lands a few punches before he gets tired. I don’t even try to dodge them anymore. He’s stronger than me even when he’s drunk.
“Go do something that might make me want to pay for college.” He saunters back to the bed- the bed I used to climb in every Christmas morning or when I woke up in the middle of the night from nightmares. Except this nightmare I can’t wake up from; I relive this one everyday and every night.
It didn’t used to be like this. I didn’t used to be scared to come home. I looked forward to family gatherings and vacations. I always wondered why it happened to me. I wasn’t a good person to begin with. I had a bad attitude and didn’t take anybody’s crap. Something I got from him. I used to love that I had something like that- Something that made us the same. I looked up to him. Now I still look up to him, but only when I’m laying on the ground. She’s not here to help me anymore, I’m by myself. Most of the pictures of her have been thrown away and broken. The photos that I do have are half ripped with crinkled edges. Sometimes when I look at them I wonder how it got so bad. I wonder how someone I thought I knew inside and out could do this to me.
I stumble to my room and lock the door behind me. I know he’s out for the night but I want to have that extra barrier. I sit on my fluffy lilac comforter, and look out the window. I grab my headphones and start to play my favorite song. It was a song she always used to play for me. It was only after she died that I realized why it was her favorite song; it was a message. I sing along to the lyrics, and close my eyes at my favorite line; I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor. It spoke to me on a deeper level. Sure, it was a literal translation of my situation but it meant so much more. I pull out my binder and do my homework until I fall asleep, while listening to Pandora.
***

Walking through the hallways of high school is like a battlefield. With pushing and shoving and shouting, I just want to scream at the top of my lungs. At least it’s my last year. I see my friend Sidney at my locker waiting for me.
“Hey girl!” she squeezes me tight and I wince at the pain I feel in my ribs.
“Hi Sid” I give her a sad smile.
“Did you do the pre calc homework last night? I couldn’t get number 56.” she starts looking over at her notes when she catches the hand print circling my wrist. I see her close her eyes. “Did he…..” she trails off and I start to feel my eyes swell up. Sidney is the only person that really knows everything. Even though we’ve only been friends for 3 years, we connected and I trust her. She’s been by my side since the beginning, basically.
“Ya, he got a little out of hand. It’s no big deal. I’m okay, I promise” I fake a smile and I can tell she knows I’m full of crap.
“Your eyes don’t lie,” she whispered “Come here” she drags me into a corner near the entrance of our class and lifts up my shirt. I try to tug it down but she hold the fabric firm in her manicured hand. She just stares at the big purple bruise. I sigh and look at her face. It’s full of pity. I can tell by how her eyebrows are pulled together and her lips are slightly frowned. She looks up at me and tears fall from her eyes. I don’t know why but I get angry. Why is she crying? This isn’t her problem…
“This shouldn’t be happening to you Carebear” I soften when she uses my nickname.
“It’s okay, I’m okay” I try to soothe her doubts. I don’t know if I really am okay. Either I’ve gotten used to it, or I’ve gotten really good at faking it. I tug my Switchfoot shirt down and look up. There’s a boy that I’ve never seen before staring at me. I watched him look up and down at my body and I knew. I could tell by his body language that he was uncomfortable. I knew he saw my bruise and overheard me talking. I had to fix this. No one could know and if he tells, my world will fall apart. Before I could go up to him and convince him to keep his mouth shut he stalked away. Crap I will probably never see him again. A stranger just single handedly ruined my already damaged life.
“Come on, lets go fail this chemistry quiz” Sid smiles, totally oblivious to what just happened.
“Okay,” I chuckle and we walk arm in arm into the room.
Seventy two minutes later I walk out of my chemistry class and toward the cafeteria. I pass the office and I’m blindsided by the body crashing into me.
“Hey! Watch it!” I immediately feel bad; my attitude always gets the best of me.
“Woah sorry. Calm down will ya?” A tall boy says. I look up and see that it’s the boy from earlier. As I stand he towers over me. He’s a lot taller than my 5’8, maybe like 6’3. I study his features; skater boy black hair, piercing dark brown eyes, and a tall lean body. So basically he’s drop dead gorgeous and I just yelled at him. Why hadn’t I noticed how attractive he was this morning? Because you were too worried about him ripping your life to shreds. I thought, answering my own question. Just great.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going” I stare down at my feet embarrassed.
“That’s okay Carrie, see you around” his hand touches my shoulder and I flinch unintentionally.
How does he know who I am? Where have I seen him before? These questions float around in my head all day until I get home.
I park my truck and repeat the same actions I had before. As I open the door this time I see his limp body lying on the cracked wood floor. I start to speak when I catch sight of blood dripping down the side of his sweaty temple. On instinct I rush toward him and start to shake.
“Dad, DAD wake up!” I’m screaming frantically. I shift my body around to grab the phone off the nightstand. My eyes dart to the corner of it and see dried blood. I dialed 911 and stopped myself from crying when the operator picks up.
“Hello? 911? Yes, my dad is lying on the ground. He’s not moving, I can’t tell if he’s breathing. Please help! I’m at 5646 Canterberry lane. Please I need your help!” I hang up the phone in a frenzy.
I hang up and start to hide all the empty liquor bottles. I know it’s not illegal to drink, but he has a collection of bottles that would be enough to end a drought. I wait and pace in his room until I hear a knock on the door. I fly down the stairs, skipping and jumping over them.
“Hello, are you the 911 caller?” The paramedic asks.
“Yes, please, he’s upstairs”
I start to follow them when the police officer who followed, says “Wait here darling, it’s better if you just stay here”
I start to argue when I think about the fact that he could die. This day has been a wreck and I just need to sit down. I fall back into the dark brown leather chair that he used to watch Sunday night football in. I remember how I used to sit in his lap with a bag of lays potato chips and watch the lion’s game. I snap out of my memory as they start to carry him out on a stretcher. He has an air mask on and right then I felt like I needed one too.
***

I walk through the hospital corridor. I stare at the white walls and I want to cry. Why am I here? Why did this all happen to me? I go into his room 317. I shoot daggers at the room number. This has to be a cruel joke. 317; March 17th was the day she was taken from me. March 17th was the day my life was taken away from me. I shake my head and finger comb my ratty hair. My face is wet and splotchy, god I must look horrific.
“Excuse me Miss Harris?” A man in scrubs asks me.
“Yes that’s me… Is he going to be okay?” I look over to my father, lying in a hospital bed, expressionless.
“Yes, he’s going to be just fine. We can release him later today.” I sigh and walk away. “Miss?” I turn around and the man in scrubs is walking towards me.
“Yeah?”
“He had a stage 4 concussion; you will need to wake him up every 15 minutes when he falls asleep”
I nod and make my way to the dirty bathroom. I look in the mirror and realize how much I look like her, with my long curly brown hair, big blue eyes, and fair skin. Then I notice my raw reflection. My eyes are red and puffy, my lips chapped and my skin has a nice red tint. The fly away hairs stick to my sweaty forehead and I lean back against the wall. Okay I can do this.
Four hours later we are at home. He’s sleeping. I have about seven minutes before I have to go wake him up. I heard him shuffling around for an hour or so. This will be the first time I’ve talked to him since Tuesday. Now on Thursday at 9 o clock at night, I have to do my homework and wake my alcoholic father from his slumber. I trudge up the stairs. But as I stand before the door I hear heavy breathing and coughing. I burst in afraid something else was wrong, and I stop dead in my tracks.

“Dad, put the bottle down. Please.” I’m trying to talk him down as he stands slumped over with a bottle in his hand. His clothes are dirty with stains of blood and dirt. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of that blood was mine. There are holes in the shoulders and the sleeves. His pants are loose with the belt undone. His angry expression is one I have seen many times before.
“No you ungrateful… ungrateful…” He tries to finish his sentence but he can’t find the energy. I just watch him. My mind is in a hundred different places. I’m trying to predict his next move. He pours the remainder of the whiskey around the room. I can’t help but stare; I think he’s actually gone crazy. He is mumbling something that I can’t make out. I lean closer trying to hear his jumbled words.
“I’m done, its over, we’ll see you soon my love…” My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. What’s that supposed to mean? He comes at me and I just stand there waiting for the punch or the kick. But then I realize he’s looking past me. I step out of the way as he goes into the spare bedroom. He comes back with my grandpas old lighter, the one he gave her right before he passed away. My father, the man who said he’d never hurt me, is set in a daze staring at the lighter. I look around the house; the cracked boards, the holes, the sadness that radiates from the walls. I hear the sound of the lighter clicking as he passes me. He sits on the bed and flicks the lighter on and off, over and over again.
“You know, I always thought it should’ve been you. You should’ve been the one to die.” He states coldly. I hold back the tears that are burning my eyes. “We could’ve had another child, but now the love of my life is dead and you’re still here causing me grief. She never loved you. You were a mistake” he spat.
I know he said the last part just to kick me while I was down. I know she loved me. I know that when she took me on road trips it was to get away from him.
“No, you’re wrong, you’ve always been wrong.” I state and take a deep breath. “She never loved YOU. She couldn’t wait to get away from YOU not me.” I’m screaming now. This is something I have been holding back for years. He rages and stands up.
“Oh really? You’re going to talk back and try to defend yourself now?” He is holding the lighter with a fresh flame and waving it around.
“Dad put the lighter down please.” I reach out so I can grab it from him.
“That’s okay sugar, we are going to visit your mom” I start running as soon as he drops the lighter, igniting the whiskey he had dumped on the floor. The flames swallow the bedroom and start attacking the hallway. I had to get her pictures, the only things I have left of her. I go to my room and open the window. There’s smoke coming from their window. I kneel down and quickly pull the Indian box from under my bed that I kept everything she ever gave to me in. A teddy bear, a concert ticket and all the brochures from all the different places we’ve been, were just some of the things in the box. I grab the box and cradle it as I run out of my room. The flames stop me as I’m trapped. I search around franticly for a way out.

“CARRIE, CARRIE” A voice shouts.
I peer out the window and the mystery boy is standing outside sweating. I turn around and my bed is in flames. If I want to live; I have to jump. I don’t have time to change my mind as I start climbing out the window. It’s only then I realize that there’s no tree and I’m on the second story. I start to cry because he wins. He gets to take my life away.
“Carrie I got you, jump you don’t have time.” I hear the boy shout. I glance over my shoulder and see him with his arms wide open and I close my eyes and let go of the window sill. I’m falling.

I crash into the boy and he falls with me on him. He immediately picks me up, god he’s so strong, I’m not light but he carries me like I’m no lighter than a plastic bag. The box is digging into my side and I clutch it like my life depends on it. I turn and cuddle up into his v neck t shirts laced with sweat.
“Carrie we have to get away the house is going to blow” I hear him yelling and somehow it sounds like a whisper. I nod my head and feel his heart beating. As soon as we get across the street, we sit in the neighbors’ yard as he calls 911. I just watch the house burn away. All I can think of is the fact that it’s finally over. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. He pulls me into his lap after he hangs up the phone. The neighbors are scared and yelling but I’m in my own world.
“Who are you?” I watch his jaw tick as he thinks of what to say. This stranger saved my life and I don’t know who he is.
“I’m Emerson. I’ve been watching you Carrie. Not in a stalker way, but I have been trying to figure out a way to help you for years. I live down the street from you and rode your bus. I was going through the same thing with my dad and I knew what you were going through. Those bruises don’t happen from tripping down the stairs.” I look up at him and look into his eyes. This boy who was nameless for the past three days just saved my life. As I take this all in, I hear the sirens as the last part of the roof caves in. I finally let the tears fall and I turn into his broad chest

“I’m free.” I sob as I cling to his shirt. His hands run up and down my back soothing me. I start to sit up and he takes a piece of hair and tucks it behind my ear. Emerson then kisses my forehead. I turn to face the house and look up at the sky.
“Well mom, I did it… I lifted myself up off the floor” I whisper as I close my eyes.