Authors: Rebecca Ann Drake
Even if
Madison could go back in time and be a model student, she still doubted it
would make any difference to how Phil was now. The stress of bringing up a
child while mourning the loss of a wife had just increased the intake of
alcohol and weakened his mental state.
After spending the night at Stephanie’s, Madison would return home to
see what sort of state Phil and the house were in and she would walk in to the
same scene every time - their furniture demolished and Phil would have returned
to his comatose state, spread out over the sofa, a whisky bottle clucked in his
hands. Phil’s features would always be the same when Madison returned, grief
stricken - screwed up in pain. The only time Phil felt anything different than
sorrow was when he was trashing the house – his sorrow had then turned to
anger.
Madison had
spent hundreds in the past buying new furniture and getting it repaired after
Phil had his
fun
with it. After years
of replacing furniture that would just get destroyed within a few months -
Madison didn’t bother anymore. Their house was made up of just the very basic
furniture; the little they did have was purchased from Charity shops.
The sight
of Phil in his consumed in his grief was sight that always knocked Madison to
her knees and caused a hard lump to form in her throat and a knot to twist in
her stomach. She still felt the pain of her Mother’s death every day of her
life and constantly witnessing Phil in this state brought it all back like it
had only happened yesterday.
After
regaining control of her emotions, Madison would gather the courage to examine
the damage that Phil had inflicted on the house. Empty alcohol bottles and food
wrappers would be scattered around the small three bedroom house. Small
circular shaped burns would cover the arms of the sofa from where Phil had
stubbed out his cigarettes. The toilet would be full of vomit and patches of
stele urine covered the bathroom floor where he had missed.
Madison would clean the house in silence,
repairing any furniture that she could and throwing out the items that she
couldn’t repair. This was her Déjà Vu, reliving the same thing over and over –
looking after a man that didn’t appreciate or care for her.
Then
suddenly something occurred that would change her life forever. Forcing her to
make a decision that she always thought she would never be able to make - no
matter how bad Phil got. In one split second, everything had changed.
It was
Tuesday the 16
th
March. Today was just like any other Tuesday;
Madison had been to work in the small building firm where she worked as an
Administrator. Just like any other day she arrived home at around 5.30pm,
walking in to the same sight she saw every night - Phil comatose on the sofa
surrounded by fag butts and Whisky bottles. He didn’t even wake up when Madison
slammed the front door behind her nor did he wake up when she vacuumed the
cigarette butts and crushed crisps up around him.
After
Madison had put the oven chips and chicken pieces onto the bottom tray of the
oven, she retired to the living room to wait for them to cook. Phil was awake
now and curled up in the same position he had been when he was sleeping, but
his eyes were now open and glued to the TV, his features blank and calm -
almost expressionless. Phil made little effort to acknowledge Madison or the
fact that he hadn’t seen her for two days as he had spent the last two days
sleeping off a hangover.
Phil’s
eyelids were still heavy and he blinked several times trying to wake himself up
with little success before slowly slipping back into a deep sleep. Quiet, slow,
snores rumbled from his chest with each breath.
Madison
watched Phil sleep for a few moments, his face was peaceful and relaxed, it was
the only time he actually resembled her Father was when he was sleeping.
Sleep was
something Phil did a lot of, normally because he had passed out from the amount
of alcohol he consumed. Even so, it always comforted Madison to watch Phil
sleep, it was the only time when the pain stopped for him and she found some
comfort in that thought.
After a few
moments of silence, Madison got up from the armchair and left the room to tend
to dinner. Once she had eaten and washed up the dishes, she headed to her room
to waste some hours before bed time.
She
piled the pillows on her bed into one big stack and grabbed the book from her
bedside table before flopped against the huge pile of soft pillows. Madison
spent most of her spare time reading horror/fantasy stories, the books she read
allowed her to shut out the madness and pain of real life where she sank into a
fantasy land, pretending to be someone completely different – like one of the
characters she read in her books. Every book that she read was enchanting,
capturing her imagination with every sentence, allowing her imagination to
guide her through every aspect of the story - making it come to life. Madison
would read anything as long as it abstracted her from reality, concealing her
pain within and hiding it from the outside world.
The book
pulled Madison in, consuming the whole of her psychical form, turning her into
her desired self-image. The book was full of evil and murder, but with an
exquisite, tragic love story weaved into it. She had been gripped by the story
from the first page, lost in her own fantasies.
After a few
hours of reading, Madison eyes began to grow heavy and before long she was
asleep - the book clutched to her chest protectively.
CRASH!
Madison jumped. Her eyelids flew open as she
struggled to get a grip on reality. The light in the room was too bright for
her eyes and her head was still foggy from sleep. Madison sat up on the bed -
she contemplated whether she had actually heard the noise or whether it was
just a dream. Nothing - the room was silent and still.
She glanced
at the clock on her bedside table, 8.39pm it read. She rubbed her eyes removing
some of the sleep dust from them.
BANG!
The bedroom
door flew open and impacted loudly with the wall. Phil barely stood in the
doorway, a whisky bottle hanging from his fingertips. He swayed back and forth
like he was on a boat in rough weather. His free hand grabbed at the doorframe
trying to steadying him, tightening his grip around the whisky bottle he
brought it up to his lips, taking a large swig of the brown liquor.
He gasped as he removed the whisky bottle
from his lips, wincing from the bitter taste it left in his mouth.
Straightening up, he stared at Madison square in the face. This was something
Phil had not done for a very long time, he always chose to ignore Madison
rather than acknowledge her.
Phil’s
beady, little, eyes stared over his thin long nose, his long thin lips were
parted revealing yellowy, brown, teeth. His bushy grey eyebrows directed down,
creating a V shape over his angry eyes. Madison couldn’t speak or move she was
frozen with shock. Her mouth hung open and her eyes wide in disbelief.
Phil had
been virtually catatonic for the past 2 months. He was hardly capable of
rolling over in his sleep, let alone walking up the stairs to Madison’s bedroom
and making direct eye contact with her.
Eyeing Phil
suspiciously, Madison slowly got up to her feet. Wearily, she stepped towards
him, her hands raised in a defensive fashion. Phil had been known to fall over
when he was drunk, normally ending up in hospital with stitches. Phil wasn’t a
big man and Madison had had to catch him many times in the past.
“Wha… wha….
what” Phil slurred. A foul stench of whisky filled the air as his breath filled
the room.
Madison
winced from the smell and swallowed hard forcing down the rising bile.
“Dad?
What’s the matter?” she asked concerned, studying his face but trying not to
gag from the smell.
“Look at
you. Look at you. You look just like… her” Phil said a little more clearly, his
face becoming soft as he spoke. His face froze for a moment, turning blank as
he lost himself in his trail of thought.
Madison
concentrated on his eyes; they were softer than usual, like Phil had suddenly
forgotten all the pain he had been carrying around with him for all these
years. His once bright, sparkling light brown eyes now seemed dull and tired,
large dark circles hung underneath his eyes - making his skin appear paler than
usual. Phil looked completely exhausted, his fingers twitched at the doorframe
as he tried to steady himself. Suddenly, without warning Phil’s feature’s
hardened and his eyes flashing with hatred and anger. His gaze moved up and
fixated on Madison’s face.
“Are you
alright?” Madison asked, taking another step towards Phil.
“Don’t you. Don’t you dare…” Phil spat through
his teeth, the foul smell of liquor flowing out into the room with each word.
He threw his head away from Madison in disgust. “Dad?” Madison asked confused,
placing her hand on Phil’s right arm.
“NO! Don’t
touch me” Phil screamed, shaking off her hand “I don’t want to see you again!”
Madison’s eyes were glazed, hurt spread across
her face.
“Look, I’m
really not in the mood for this tonight. So let’s
just
go downstairs…”
she said shaking off the bitterness of his words.
Phil
flinched as Madison moved towards him. He threw his free arm back and balled
his hand into a fist, throwing it towards her.
Madison
barely had time to react before Phil’s hard fist impacted with her left cheek.
The force of the punch caused her to fly backwards and land hard at the foot of
her bed. Her cheeks were scolded by hot tears as they poured down her cheeks;
she cupped her cheek in pain. Her face became flushed and sodden by tears and
her head throbbed from the impact of Phil’s fist. There was a dull ringing in
her ears causing her hearing to become muffled and vague. Panic flooded into
Madison’s mind, she had no idea what Phil’s intentions were or whether he would
stop at just one punch. Madison had never been in this type of situation before
with Phil and for fifteen years Phil had never laid a single finger on her.
Madison knew how unpredictable Phil could be at times, but it had never come to
this before. Phil’s twisted, hurtful words suddenly made sense to her and she
finally had the answer she had been looking for. After fifteen years of
neglect, guilt and misery the answer had been in front of her the whole time.
The reason why Phil looked at Madison in disgust and why he unconsciously
ignored at every possible moment was because Madison looked like her Mother.
The urge to
chuckle was overwhelming and she felt stupid for not seeing it before. She knew
she looked like her Mother when Heidi had been her age, as Madison had looked
through the family photo albums hundreds of times. The similarities were
uncanny. Every one of Madison features she had inherited from Heidi, her long
shinny brown hair, the small point of her nose and the fullness of her lips.
The only part of Phil Madison had inherited were his light brown eyes and she
was thankful that was all she had inherited from him – she didn’t wait anymore
of his traits.
Madison
stared at Phil in complete shock, pushing down the urge to chuckle; it would
only provoked him further. Pain spread to her eye socket, a hundred tiny
needles piercing her eye. The tears still ran thick and heavy, but Madison did
not cry out –the tears were automatic and uncontrollable.
Phil
remained still, he was just as shocked at his action then Madison was, but
there was little regret or remorse in his eyes - they remained blank as his
features turned to confusion. Both of Phil’s hand twitched at his side, his
fingers flexing in and out, curling back into a fist - the whisky bottle sat
limp in his other hand. His eyes turned dark again and anger flashed back onto
his face. Before Phil could even flinch, Madison jumped to her feet and leap
towards him, pushing him backwards out of the bedroom door.
Phil
stumbled backwards with little effort, he was still heavily under the influence
and easy to manipulate. He stumbled into the hallway, falling over sideways at
the foot of the stairs. The whisky bottle went flying, smashing on the floor
next to him - spraying him with dark, brown, liquid and shards of glass.
Madison paused in the doorway - concern and pity clouding her judgement. Phil
shuffled on the floor grumbling, he pulled himself up so he was sat up
straight.
“Look what you’ve done, you stupid bitch!”
Phil slurred, gesturing to the wet patch of whisky of the beige carpet.
His thin,
bony fingers dug at the wet patch trying to soak up some of the alcohol that
had soaked into the carpet.
“You’ve
wasted it!” he yelled, licking the booze off his chubby fingers.
“That’s all you ever care about isn’t it?!
Your precious
booze!
You’re sick - you know, sick!” Madison screamed,
unable to control the hurt and anger any longer.
“What you’d
fucking
say….” Phil slurred angrily, struggling to get to his feet.
Madison
slammed the bedroom door in his face, twisting the key in the lock.