Decide to Rise Up

     I hold my hand over my face as another plate crashes into the wall above me.  It shatters, covering my hair with tiny shards. It's two in the morning and my dad has just gotten home from the bar.  He starting going there every night after my mom took my baby brother and left.  It's been months since they left and nothing has changed.  He stumbles across the room, searching for another object to hurl in my direction.  My hands shake as I push my hair out of my face. The floor creaks and groans as he clumsily approaches me.  The smell of alcohol becomes stronger the closer he gets.  I try my hardest to avoid making eye contact with him.  Despite my efforts, my eyes find his.  In that moment, he almost looks sorry.  In his eyes, I can see the man that he used to be, trapped and screaming for help.  I want to love him, I really do. A single tear slips out of my eye and rolls down my cheek. Before the rest can follow, I turn and run towards the bathroom.  I enter and close the door, locking it behind me.  Seconds later, dad's fist pounds on the door followed by drunken slurs.  I sink to the floor as the tears stream down my face and drip off my chin.  I lay there, examine the cuts and scratches left by the plates and cups.  I know what I should do.  It's time to finally choose me, to do what's best for my happiness.  I've been through too much, but I can still change it.  Mom couldn't do it but maybe I can.  I'm a stronger person because of it.  I pull my phone out of my pocket and begin dialing.