By Molly Silvanic
"Cracked But Not Broken"
I close my eyes and all I can hear are mumbled slurs and angry growls. As I bend over to tie my white Nikes, I see a glass that is half full of water fly above my head and hit the light blue painted wall in front of me. The glass shatters and falls all around my feet. The water from the glass darkens the carpet as the shattered pieces of glass fall and reflect the fear in my eyes.
My father has just come into the room. Thankfully, when he drinks, his aim is off. The glass missed my head by almost a foot. I grab my iPod and run out the front door before his aim gets better and the next glass he throws doesn’t miss me. Before I reach the door though, he throws a white plate at me. It hits the wall right beside me and I get so nervous I accidentally drop my iPod. It soars through the air and I can see his reflection in the glass. His eyes are staring at me with a look of hate and evil. My iPod lands directly on the glass side and cracks. I grab my IPod as quickly as possible before he takes his third pitch and tries to hit me again.
As I reach for the handle he yells, “Molly! Get your ass back here! Did I give you permission to leave? What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You made me break a glass and spill water, don’t make me have to do anything else.”
I used to constantly remind myself that it was the alcohol talking, it wasn’t him, just the alcohol but after a while I just stopped caring whether it was him or the alcohol, I just didn’t want to hear it anymore.
I push the door open and feel the breeze hit my face as if freedom is right in front of me. I am almost safe, I just need to close the door. But as I push the door closed, it fires back open like a cannonball shooting out of a cannon.
“FUCK!” I yell and trip down the four stone stairs trying to go as fast as I can. I’m surprised to find that I land on my feet.
“Bitch, I said get back in the house! Who do you think you are!? I AM YOUR FATHER!” He is screaming, staring at me and causing a scene in the neighborhood.
“No! You’re not my father, you’re just a fucking drunk.” I lash back not caring who is listening.
He jumps down the stairs with one impressive leap and grabs my arm as tightly as he can. People on the block are watching us as if it is an episode of Criminal Minds. They sit there on their stoops but don’t say or do anything to try to stop him. He looks down on me with eyes filled with anger and hatred. Quietly he says, “get in the house or God help me I will kill you! You ungrateful woman.”
I look back at him with disgust. And then I make a promise: “You can’t kill me if you never see me again.” As I look at him for what would be one of the last times until four years later, I don’t feel bad for what I am about to do. As I grab my hand and elbow him between the legs, his grip loosens. He starts moaning and bending toward the hard pavement. I take off running, not looking back to see if he is hurt or if he is going to follow me. I just run and run until my mom’s block comes into my sight.
Molly Silvanic is a senior at the University at Albany, State University of New York. She is graduating this weekend and will enter a master's program in Education in the fall. Stay tuned for Part Two of her Flip Your Script, and also, for a piece that explains how writing the Flip Your Script stories enabled her "to forgive [her father] for everything that he has done." For more on Flip Your Script, go to the Happiness class blog. For other Flip Your Script stories, go to the Search function on MyStoryLives, and type in Flip Your Script.