A girl sits in her room on a cold night.
It’s 8 o’clock, her dad is on his way home.
She is terrified of what comes when he gets home.
Her homework is done. The house is clean. She has done everything that he has asked of her.
His annoyingly loud truck pulls into the driveway.
He walks in the door
Removes his jacket; hangs it up. Removes his boots. Goes in the back porch to smoke and drink.
It is same same routine; day in and day out.
A knock on the door.
She knows who it is.
She once was a beautiful soul.
She had been beaten, and damaged, and taken over by a man named Meth.
He was powerful; he changed her; she was no longer a loving, caring, mother or wife.
She was nonexistent.
But her dad still believed there high school love was still there.
Every day after work we would freshen up.
Just to impress her…..
All she every came for was money; but he was weak!
He thought her could change her; with there love for each other…..
He would open the door. She would stand there.
Wrinkled, ripped clothing, bare feet, knotted hair, rotting teeth
But to him- she was a work of art
All she could see was a pure waste of a life. a disgusting sight to see.
She would stay in her room, and when she would get called for to come down, she would put her music on full blast.
She could no longer look her mother in her face- she could think of who she “use” to be
She felt sorry for her dad for being so weak.
They would sit down to talk, act like the old days.
She would cut him off and ask for food.
He would jump up, and grab a plate he had on worm in the oven.
He would tell her he loves her and misses her.
She would cut him off and ask for money.
He would empty his wallet- giver her everything he had.
She would get up to leave- and he would beg for her to come back tomorrow.
His love, his first, his everything.