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ERICA

Time seemed to tick too fast tonight. My eyes remained glued to the wall clock that hung in my cramped living room. It was already close to midnight, and yet my father still wasn’t home.

It wasn’t unusual for him to come home late, but not this late. He was usually back by eleven, or ten on good days. Where is that man, for goodness' sake!?

Could he still be at the bar drinking?

Had he passed out somewhere? Was he safe? Had he gotten himself into another street fight?

An annoyed huff left my lips as I sharply got up from the couch, pacing around the living room to clear my thoughts. The approaching footsteps of my younger sister snapped me out of my disturbing thoughts, and I quickly turned to face her.

"Erica, are you still awake?" my younger sister, Lilibeth, asked, concern in her eyes as she approached me. I nodded as she embraced me, hugging me tightly.

“Yeah, can’t sleep. He’s not back yet.”

"Do you think he will come back tonight?" Lilibeth asked as she pulled away from the hug. I gazed into her brown eyes and ruffled her dark hair slightly, earning a chuckle from her.

"Yes, he will. I just don’t know what time he’ll come back tonight,” I sighed, a faint smile playing on my lips.

“Why do we worry so much about him? He doesn’t even care for either of us,” Lilibeth scoffed, her face turning into a frustrated frown. “I think we should go to bed. He knows his way home,” she added as she went over to sit on a nearby sofa.

“Don’t say that. He’s still our father, Lilibeth,” I sternly told her.

Lilibeth let out a deep exhale. “Our father? Do you really call that man a father? He hates us, Rica. He hates me. I am tired of pretending and lying to myself that I have a father in that man when I don’t.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke. I walked over to her on the sofa and sat beside her.

“He doesn’t hate us. Don’t say that, Lilibeth. I don’t want you growing up with that narrative,” I whispered.

Lilibeth shook her head, grasping my hands and interlocking them with hers. “You know it. Don’t try to cover it up. He’s a monster. And I hope he never comes back.”

I was left speechless. She was right. Our father was a deadbeat; the only thing he cared about was drinking and gambling. It had been this way ever since Mum died giving birth to Lilibeth, and he hated her for that.

He blamed her for Mum’s death every single day, and I was left to assume the motherly and fatherly roles for my sister. Things became even worse when Dad’s business went bankrupt a few years later. He became a complete liability to me.

I dropped out of middle school and started doing menial jobs, taking multiple shifts just to put food on the table, while my sister learned a trade to support the family.

And my father? He squandered whatever salary I earned on his endless drinking and gambling debts.

I am stuck in this shithole with no light at the end of the tunnel.

I didn’t realize a lone tear had trickled down my cheek until I felt my sister’s fingers brush my skin. I held her fingers and was about to say something when an urgent, loud knock on the door shattered the stillness of the house.

We both jerked at the sound, our eyes immediately flashing toward the door.

“He’s back,” Lilibeth stated sadly. I nodded, standing to my feet.

“Open the door, you fckng bastards!” I heard my dad yell. Oh, sweet Jesus.

My body shuddered at the sight I knew I would meet once I opened the door.

“Fckng open the door, Erica! Goddamn it, do you need a gun next to your head before you do so!?”

I slowly pulled the door open, bracing myself for whatever disaster lay behind it.

“Dad!” I gasped, shocked at how terrible and battered he looked. His shirt was in shreds, pieces dangling off his body, and bruises, accompanied by fresh blood stains, coated his torso.

“Get the f*ck out of my way, you idiot!” His speech was slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol as he roughly shoved me aside and staggered in.

“Dad, what the hell happened to you?” Lilibeth asked, genuine concern washing over her face as she rushed to his aid to keep him from falling.

He looked extremely beaten up; I had never seen him like this.

“Of what concern is my appearance to you, filthy bad luck!” Father growled, resisting her help and pushing her away.

Lilibeth pressed her lips together, stopping herself from sobbing.

“She’s just trying to help, Father. Have you seen how you look? Did you get into a fight with someone?” I probed but got no response other than an annoyed grunt.

His steps were unsteady as he stumbled around the living room before collapsing on the floor. I stared at him, pure disgust written all over my face.

What kind of father is this? People my age are living their best lives, while I’m stuck with a deadbeat father, bills to juggle, and debts to clear.

“Just look at you, Dad! You’re a fckng disgrace! You do nothing but squander money on stupid gambles and alcohol! How can you show up at midnight looking like sh*t? You stink, and I feel ashamed to call you my father!” I ranted at him.

My father let out a grunt, mumbling incoherently like I wasn’t even speaking to him.

“Don’t you know your lifestyle is affecting Lilibeth and me? Don’t you know you’re hurting us? I’ve dealt with your sh*t for more than ten years since Mum died! Why are you doing this? Are you proud of who you’ve become?”

Tears streamed down my face as I poured out my emotions to the man lying in front of me like a piece of trash.

“Hey, get me some liquor,” my father grimly muttered, as if my words didn’t even matter.

“Mum would be rolling in her grave right now. She’d be so ashamed of you,” Lilibeth spat.

“How—how dare you?!” Father shot up with a sudden burst of energy and delivered an ear-splitting slap to Lilibeth.

“Dad!” I yelled, grabbing him to stop him from hitting her again.

Lilibeth broke down in tears, sobbing bitterly, and it broke me.

“Haven’t I told you I never want to hear a fckng word about my wife from your despicable mouth? You killed her, and you still have the nerve to say this to me? You murderer, bad-luck child! You ruined this family. I wish you were dead and not her!” he cursed, fury blazing in his eyes and contempt dripping from his tone.

“Enough!” I screamed, my anger burning toward my father.

“This is what you do when you are out of control, isn’t it? You always hit Lilibeth. I regret having you as a father.”

He glared at me. “You are an even more useless daughter than she is,” he said without a shred of remorse before walking away.

“He hates me so much,” Lilibeth cried. I held her, gently stroking her hair as she sobbed against my chest.

“It is not your fault,” I whispered.

“And yes, before I forget, I need five hundred thousand dollars by tomorrow,” Father halted in his faltering steps and announced.

My jaw dropped, and my eyes widened in shock. Was he for real?

“Dad, that’s absurd! Five hundred thousand dollars for what? And who told you I have that kind of money?” I asked, bewildered.

“I know you’ve been hiding money from me, and it is none of your fckng concern what I need it for. I need it by tomorrow, or the consequences will be dire,” he warned before striding into the room.

Was that a threat? Where did he expect me to get that kind of money?