It started off as any normal day; I was with my dad at home sitting on the floor drawing while my mother was at work or so we thought. I hear the sound of police sirens outside my apartment. My dad got up from beside me to see what was going on. The police told him to get his things to they had come for him due to his actions. My mom was there outside with the police waiting for my dad to get all his stuff and leave. Leave because of the way he had treated me my brother and mom.
My dad was a short tempered abusive man. Everyday being hit, bleeding, hurt, wondering what I did to deserve this. As my dad packed his things he took all my pictures leaving my mother with not even one picture of me. Like one time I remember my dad arguing with my mother over something real same and dumb. He hit her and she was on the floor in a blink of an eye, I started to cry and ran over to her acting like my actions was going to do much but I tried to stop him from hitting her again but instead he hit me. I had a bloody nose and since my brother was in the corner minding his own business he hit him to and made him kneel down on rice .As I stood there in the living room and saw him walk out the door I started to cry. My tears were tears of hurt but also of a little joy. Tears of hurt because he was my father, no child wants to see there father being token by the police. My tears of joy were because finally my mother said “No More”, no more to the abuse and all the miss treatment he had put us though.
I looked out the window and saw the police talking to my father. For a child it’s normal to cry but not like I did that day. I mean I have cried before when being him by my father, but never as much as I did that day. Now still to this day I don’t see my father. He uses to call me every day. Then it turned into two times every week end, then to once a week. Now he calls me when he feels like it or not even at all.
Even though my father was a bad person to my mother my brother and I, I still love my father. It hurts like crazy to know that he doesn’t care about me. But life goes on, people come and people go. That’s why I don’t get too attached to people because one day someone is there but the next you may never know were they might be or were life takes them.