LOST AND FOUND

The doorbell rang, insistent and impatient. I turned to the door like the mahogany had become transparent, my heart pounding as I felt a familiar dread settle in my stomach. 

The man standing at my door looked both familiar and unrecognizable. One thing came to mind, “Father”. 

It had been almost five weeks since I last saw Father, a title he insisted I called him because it was different from what the other kids called their parents.

My father was one thing and one thing only, the sperm donor in my creation. 

He left us when I was three years old from what my mum told me and never came back.

I slowly approached the door. “Father!” I exclaimed, taking in his shirt messed up with blood evidently pouring from his lips. 

Both his eyes were swollen like he was repeatedly punched, and I couldn't help but notice the smell of burnt skin that was coming from him.

The wind picked up outside, howling loudly and pushing branches against my kitchen windows. It brought back ugly memories . 

( Flashback) 

My father first showed up when I was 15, and Mum had just died.

“Nazlynn, oh my beautiful, beautiful baby girl,” a rough-looking middle-aged man with teary eyes had said immediately as I opened the front door of our house.

My aunt heard the voice and came to the door. I saw recognition flash through her eyes before she pushed me back inside the house and walked out to meet him.

I heard their raised voices, and after, when she told me it was my dad, I wondered why she was shouting at him and why he was crying so much. I asked my aunt that very question.

According to her, he was a chronic gambler as well as a drug addict. It would do me no good to associate with him.

I had promised to stay away, but I broke the promise the next time he came to the door months later, this time, in her absence.

My aunt left when I was seventeen, after lying to the authorities that I was already 18 to keep social workers off my back.

My brother, Enzo, who was 14 at that time, had just gotten a football scholarship in Atlanta. It still is the one thing I am most thankful for.

I hated him, but I loved the idea of a father. The abuse started immediately he came into my life and stopped after I hit him back when I was 21.

Some days, I could see that he wanted to hit me. The tightening of his jaw, the flaring of his nostrils that made the stench of beer from him become stronger, gave it away. 

He slammed whatever was closest to him across the wall, but that was the most he would do.

***(PRESENT DAY)*****

I quickly ushered him inside, closing the door behind me. “Father, what happened? Who did this to you?” I asked as I led him to my bathroom.

His grey strands had increased from the last time I saw him. He could have passed for a homeless man in that state. He opened his mouth to respond, then stopped, wincing and holding the side of his mouth in pain.

“Just stay put, I'll be right back,” I said, rushing to the kitchen to grab the first aid kit from my cabinet before rushing back to his side.

The bleeding from his lip had subsided, and I could see the wide split. No words were exchanged between us while I tended to his wounds. 

By the time he was all cleaned up and I asked him to take a shower, I was mentally and physically exhausted, but I couldn't just leave him without asking what happened.

Grabbing an extra plate, I dished some food on it and set it on the small table before sitting down to wait for him. I deserve an explanation, at least.

I must have been too deep into my thoughts because I didn't hear him walk into the kitchen. I only felt a small prick behind my neck, making me turn around to face him. 

“Father, sit and eat so we can talk. You need your energy.” I said, standing up to pull out the chair for him.

“I'm so sorry Naz, please forgive me,” he said. 

“Sit and eat, we'll talk after.” It was then I noticed his eyes that were glistening with tears. I took a questioning step in his direction but looked down when I realized my legs had grown too heavy to move. 

“Fa….th….er,” I said, looking up at him with confusion evident in my eyes. The world around me grew hazy, and my vision blurred.

Two dark looking figures hovering above me were the last things I saw as I fell to the ground, my consciousness slipping through my fingers