UNTITLED

by Patricia Soto

I awoke to the sound of loud banging. Still half asleep, I lay still and listened, thinking my mind was playing tricks on me. The loud banging rang out again, this time louder and fiercer. My insides froze, my body tightened. A tiny voice in my head began crying out “oh no, oh no, not this again.” I exhaled deeply and tried to control my trembling. A loud boom resonated from downstairs. The back door being slammed shut. The wooden floors creaked and moaned under the weight of clumsy, uncoordinated footsteps.

“Alicia!” my father’s voice thundered.

I closed my eyes and swallowed.  If I could make myself the smallest possible target, if I just stayed quiet and pretended to sleep, he wouldn’t come upstairs. As the voices downstairs began to bicker, tears began to well up in my eyes. I blinked furiously, trying not to cry. It was bad enough that my dad was drunk, but now he was picking a fight with my mother. This wasn’t the first time this had happened.

As I lay in bed crying, I heard my father stumbling up the stairs. I inhaled suddenly and choked on my spit. I spun into a coughing fit. I quickly covered my mouth with my hand and bit down hard. Silence. The door slid open and my father’s silhouette stood before me. I closed my eyes shut, breathing hard.

“Mija, I love you” he croaked in imperfect English.

This crap again, I thought, the need to cry fading away slowly. As my drunken father stood at my door, speaking and slurring every word so he wasn’t incomprehensible, a burning sensation began to grow in my belly. My father stumbled over and tried to lean over to kiss me good night, but I jerked away.

I turned to face him and angrily stared him in the eyes. His bloodshot eyes were glazed; he was in no shape or form to even remember this the next morning. But I would remember. And knowing that he wouldn’t remember something in the morning and I would be forced to, made me angry. My body had ceased to tremble with fear. Now it shook with rage and the deep rooted anger that still exists to this day began to mold and take shape.