Aurora Magazine 2018

the house that I grew up in. i can hear him groaning up- stairs like needles in my ears. I want to help, so I have smiled through it all. But now is different. I want things to break, to burn, and I somehow know that this is a turning point. I know Daddy won’t be okay. We are a freight train stuck on the fastest setting. eventually, we’ll crash. This whole charade will come crashing down, all at once, and his princess will be left to pick up the pieces. I sit by the window and watch the storm rage, and I wish that I could too. Sleep brings dreams, and Daddy kisses me goodnight, and promises to take me out tomorrow. After what feels like days, I find myself back in bed, sketching and trying to es- cape. I hear him and mom get out, and the water shuts off. I am empty, and long to be back in the storm again. Mom helps him down the stairs, and it sounds excruciatingly painful. I am losing him. How did we get like this? The pain I feel is in- terrupted by mom calling me (a constant irritant for a teenage girl). I make my way downstairs and my mother passes me, only saying, “Your father wants you.” I find Daddy looking frighteningly pale and tired, but his glassy eyes are alight with excitement. “Hey princess!” he says and I smile slightly in response. He looks at me the way he always does: like I walk on water. “Do you want to come take pictures of the storm?” I smile and nod. Better to be his princess through to the end then quit.

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