He is sitting in "his" chair in the living room that sits to the left of the entryway. I barely ever step foot in that unwelcoming dungeon. I try to ignore his question, shutting the door quietly behind me and walking quickly to the bottom of the stairs, but he won't drop it.
"River, get your spoiled ass in here!" He yells.
I flinch at his words. He always knows exactly what buttons to hit to hurt me the most. There is nothing else I can do but gather my strength, cross the space from the stairs to the living room, and wait for the curses to start flying.
My arms are folded across my chest, hip cocked to the side in an uncaring manner. I stand directly in front of him so he can't see the movie he's been watching. I know my mother is somewhere in the other room, hiding out so she doesn't have to witness this verbal boxing match. His face turns red; the vein in his forehead, pulsating with anger. We'll be at each other's throats in a matter of minutes, I can feel it. The air is thick with unsaid words.
"What do you want?" I ask, my voice sounding cold and harsh.
"You had better not speak to me that way." He counters angrily, staring up at me with no form of love in his eyes.
"In what way, Samuel?" I snap. "The way you speak to us? Turnabout is fair play."
He is standing now, towering above me, anger emanating from his whole being. His dark eyes look black as they stare into mine, mouth set in a snarl.
"I'm your father!" He screams in my face, spit flying out of his mouth. "I can speak to you anyway I please!"
My gaze turns frigid, as I stare back at him, never daring to break our staring contest; and my body tenses. I want to punch him; make him feel like he makes me feel. I want him to be in so much pain that he can't even stand to look at himself in the mirror, because he is so ashamed of his weakness. I want him to break, to be nothing but a pile of crumbled bones and flesh that no one is willing to put back together. I just want him to disappear.
"You will never be my father." I say in a low voice. "Never."
He raises his hand like he is going to hit me, but attacks me again with his words. "Get out of my sight. I don't want to see your face."
He sits back down in his chair, resuming the hateful silence as I break our staring contest and turn to leave.
"River, get your spoiled ass in here!" He yells.
I flinch at his words. He always knows exactly what buttons to hit to hurt me the most. There is nothing else I can do but gather my strength, cross the space from the stairs to the living room, and wait for the curses to start flying.
My arms are folded across my chest, hip cocked to the side in an uncaring manner. I stand directly in front of him so he can't see the movie he's been watching. I know my mother is somewhere in the other room, hiding out so she doesn't have to witness this verbal boxing match. His face turns red; the vein in his forehead, pulsating with anger. We'll be at each other's throats in a matter of minutes, I can feel it. The air is thick with unsaid words.
"What do you want?" I ask, my voice sounding cold and harsh.
"You had better not speak to me that way." He counters angrily, staring up at me with no form of love in his eyes.
"In what way, Samuel?" I snap. "The way you speak to us? Turnabout is fair play."
He is standing now, towering above me, anger emanating from his whole being. His dark eyes look black as they stare into mine, mouth set in a snarl.
"I'm your father!" He screams in my face, spit flying out of his mouth. "I can speak to you anyway I please!"
My gaze turns frigid, as I stare back at him, never daring to break our staring contest; and my body tenses. I want to punch him; make him feel like he makes me feel. I want him to be in so much pain that he can't even stand to look at himself in the mirror, because he is so ashamed of his weakness. I want him to break, to be nothing but a pile of crumbled bones and flesh that no one is willing to put back together. I just want him to disappear.
"You will never be my father." I say in a low voice. "Never."
He raises his hand like he is going to hit me, but attacks me again with his words. "Get out of my sight. I don't want to see your face."
He sits back down in his chair, resuming the hateful silence as I break our staring contest and turn to leave.
