“How many fingers do you see?” His voice was dementing and eight fingers danced in front of her face. His gray hair hung in her face and his intense green eyes starred at her the way they always did when he wanted to touch her. Suddenly she felt small again. She felt dirty and used. He found her and she mustered all the energy she could and slapped the hell out of him and let out a blood curling scream. She shoved his arms away as he tried to grasp her and she stumbled around till she felt herself thud to the floor. She was going to get away from him no matter if she had to kill him. He came at her swiftly and she kicked as hard as she could.
“Get away from me!” she screamed, “Not again! Never again!” she yelled and she stumbled to her feet. He was hurt and he was bleeding. She was winning. Before her eyes his hair turned brown and curls were scattered over his head. His eyes turned from green to cinnamon brown and his skin was tanned instead of pale.
“It’s me Evelyn, not your father!” he yelled and it became clear yet the past of the last hour as her eyes glanced at the clock was not. It was dark outside and she was soaking wet and cold. She starred at him and couldn’t help but burst into tears.
She heard him sigh and she laid down against the carpet and sobbed.
“Damn, damn, damn!” she screamed in frustration and she pulled her hair. She squeezed her short nails against the soft palm of her hands until there were crescent bubbles of brilliant red blood.
“It’s okay.” He said softly but she cried too loud to hear anything. She was in her own world and wanted the numbness of alcohol to carry her away like it always did. She felt arms pull her into a warmness that she trusted, that she wanted to stay in forever. She could feel the beating of his heart as she sat there entangled in his arms and the cloth of his shirt against her wet face. She closed her eyes and tried to get away from the throbbing head ache that was dancing around her head.
“It’s okay.” He whispered as she began to sob again softly. She felt so small and vulnerable again. She felt o weak but yet within his arms, so covered, so protected. They were warm against the cool wind that was coming inside. He hadn’t even closed the patio door. She felt his soft lips push themselves against her forehead as she sniffed and cried trying to forget her life and what it was. She was a failure. Her job was shit, loans needed to be paid back and life just cost too much money.
He rubbed her back and she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Once they closed, she had decided it had been a day. Sleep was a refuge she was willing to run too. She just hoped it didn’t play a movie of a past all too well known that she wanted to forget.
