Life and General Fiction Stories

So Long, Dear Diary

I’m writing again. I’m sorry, I thought I’ve outgrown you. How wrong I was! I’m writing again even though my eyes are red from blowing the dust off your cover and I had a tough time lifting your lock which was rusted and jammed.

Oh, I’m sorry, I know you feel neglected, I’m sorry baby. We are still best friends, remember? And we tell each other our secrets each time.

So grandma threw a party today. Something like a family reunion. You know I hate parties; the loud noise, drinks, blaring music, everything. They suck! But I decided to be a good sport and tag along instead of staying in my room. For mummy’s sake actually.

Guess what? Daddy came. Daddy came with his mistress. I wasn’t just angry, I was livid, I was choked with fury. The divorce isn’t complete yet and he’s got a woman already? What a jerk. Besides, what kind of a man brings his mistress to a family party. Wait, did I say mistress? Sweet sixteen, that’s the right name. I’m willing to bet my bank account that that girl is below twenty years of age.

Here goes the man Mum spent hours trying to look good for. You know she hasn’t gotten over the divorce. She still believes something would bring Daddy back. My heart stings to call him my father. Sometimes, I want to yank mummy’s hair and shake her till she wakes up to reality. How can she be ready to accept a man who beats her up even in front of their daughter?

Well, that idi… Wait, let me get a hold on myself. Breathe in, breathe out. Okay I’m good.

So he even introduced her to Mum, and I wanted to strangle him when I saw the pain in Mum’s eyes. He even had the nerve to come over to introduce her to me.

He said, “Meet Alisha, your soon to be stepmother. That’s if the court grants me custody.”

“Did you say stepmother? She looks more like a stepsister. And I don’t want an underage for a stepmother. That is if you won’t start hitting her pretty soon like you did Mum,” I replied flashing him a smile.

The girl swallowed painfully and shot daggers at him. I laughed in my mind, knowing he would have a tough time the moment they were alone. I expected he would have a lot to explain to the girl. I didn’t expect the slap though. He slapped me.

Suddenly, I was eight years old again and he was yanking at my hair, kicking me and beating me.

“No!” I screamed and poured the wine in the cup on his well tailored suit. I lunched at his girlfriend and pushed her down making sure I gave her a good number of punches before I was pulled off her. You should have seen the shocked faces of everyone. That man hated us, he deserved worse.

Well, Mum said I embarrassed her and degraded myself and now I’m grounded. Who cares?

At least, he will think twice before coming to a family party with this mistress next time.

So there it is, Diary. I’m being grounded for a week, until I learn my lesson as mum puts it. I’m in my room, staring into the space, seeing nothing. So much for being the heroine. I must confess, I really do care. I Wish things were better, I wish mine was a happy family like my friends’. I wish we were all together and happy; mum, dad, me.

Maybe, I’m asking for too much.

So long.

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One Comment

  1. When i saw your link on facebook, my mind flashed back to one of your wonderful works i had read in the past, i then decided to click.

    Reading this and “The red sea” made me realize how much of a great writer. I see your works having the same quality of writing as that of those you look up to.

    Keep it up. A promising future is assured.

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