Chapter 4
Daniela
Fifteen years ago .
Pots and pans clattered in a cacophony of loud noise, waking me and my little brother from our sleep. I knew he had woken too because he scurried into my room only moments after I sat up, heart pounding.
Screaming and yelling accompanied the banging, and I knew it was another bad one.
They only fought like that when my dad was using. An eleven-year-old shouldn’t know that.
At that age, I was old enough to remember a few good years where my dad was happy, sober. I didn’t understand it at the time, but looking back, the shift was obvious. Even to me.
The fights had started a year or two earlier. Then, somewhere along the way, he lost his job. And things got worse. It felt like a downward spiral after that.
My little brother whimpered in my arms, trembling. I brushed his shaggy brown hair with my hand, trying to keep myself steady. The fights were getting scarier. His rage was growing, little by little, each outburst worse than the last.
Then I heard them—muffled voices and footsteps drawing closer. They were right outside the hall. My stomach twisted. I tightened my arms around my brother, shielding him as best I could.
“I just want to say goodbye!” Dad shouted before he swung my door wide open.
I saw their silhouettes in the doorway, the hallway light bright behind them. Dad was a large, formidable shadow, while mom was a small, huddled thing.
She didn’t stop him, but she stood in the doorway watching. Silent. Tense.
He sauntered toward us, every step unsteady.
“Daniela, Jason,” Dad said with a tone so soft, it startled me. I could see his bloodshot eyes then. He looked like he’d been crying. “I’m going stay somewhere else for a little while. I’m going to get better. But I’ll be back. ”
He hit a weak spot in me. I was just a little girl, after all. Quick to forgive and forget.
“Promise?” I whisper.
“I promise.”
Dad kissed us both on the foreheads. He smelled funny. Then Jason ran to Mom, sobbing.
We watched through the window as he drove away. I remember his old blue pickup truck getting smaller and smaller as it sped down the road, his license plate hanging crooked.
We wouldn’t see him again for three years.
The damage had begun.