Title Unknown .-. Read?

It's been a week now since that fateful night. The cuts on my back have been reduced to unsightly scars. But that alone isn't the reason I could celebrate.

Today was my birthday. Right now my dad was probably in the kitchen cooking Elle and I pancakes and bacon. The delicious aroma wafted out of the kitchen and lingered my nostrils. I sighed in pleasure.

For some reason, whenever it was my birthday, he regressed to his former self; my fun-loving father who would never turn down a game of chess.

I lied in my bed until I was aroused by my dad's gentle voice calling out to us. "Breakfast is ready!" I arose eagerly, following behind Elle to the kitchen.

"Happy birthday!" she piped up, turning around and hugging my leg. For some reason she always knew it was my birthday without being told. As if the change in our dad's attitude was the indicator in her head.

"Thank you!" I replied happily, scooping her up in my arms locking her in a bear hug.

"Let go I'm hungry!" She squeaked, giggling. We arrived in the kitchen to see both of our plates covered in food; golden brown french toast, eggs scrambled to perfection, and bacon cooked crispy, just how I preferred it.

"Happy birthday little man." He said, patting me on the back. I embraced him, unable to contain my ecstasy. It was almost as if this one day made up for the rest of the year. Almost.

After breakfast he took me and Elle out to the front yard to play catch. Elle was radiating happiness. She showed no signs of fear of our father whatsoever. Just seeing her rosy cheeked face break out in a smile was enough to make my birthday the best it could possibly be. But my father topped it all when he went to grab the mail and brought with him an envelope addressed to me. I opened the envelope carefully. This one piece of mail was very special to me. I'd never gotten mail before. It was a happy birthday card from our grandmother who lived about 2 hours away. She hated driving unless it was an emergency, the card told me. So she hoped that the 50 dollars that were in the envelope would make up for it. I'd just noticed my money in the envelope. I took the envelope, money and card and put it under my bed in my room. I'd cherish it whenever my father was in an angry rage again.

My dad followed me into my room and suggested I write a thank you card to my grandma, since our landline had been shut down years ago and I couldn't call her. So I sat down and stated writing, when suddenly it clicked.

I finally had my way to escape.

 

Lol yes xD

 

My plea to my grandmother was received by the mail truck this morning. Now hopefully she'd consider this an emergency and do something about it.

Tomorrow is my father's birthday, as well as the day my letter should reach grandma. Now I just needed to get through today. I decided to treat this as a holiday; it's not like we'd celebrated too many.

So I started off the day by cleaning Elle's bedroom. I also rummaged through the piles of broken toys that father had gotten her as an enticement to stay cooped up in her room. I managed to reassemble her doll house, as well as collect the stuffed animals that hadn't been torn to shreds, into a kind of line at the end of her bed. Then I placed various toys around the room.

She woke up shortly after I was finished. She flew out from under the covers and gave each of her stuffed animals hugs saying "I missed you!" to each of them. After she'd done that she felt the need to play with every toy in the room before settling down beside me by the doll house.

"Thank you Trevor!" The happiness in her voice and the smile on her face melted my heart. Perhaps the only person I cared about in this world, I was happy she wasn't old enough to fully understand what was happening around her.

So for a few hours we played, laughed, tickled, played more, and eventually wore ourselves out. Our father hadn't once said anything to us, and I wanted this day to be perfect for her. So I put Elle in her bed and read her a bedtime story. Well, more like looked at the pictures together with her, since neither of us had went to school and been taught how to read.

Eventually she fell asleep and I rose slowly off of her bed. I advanced towards the hall and closed her door so that it was only open a crack. I decided that I, too, would go to sleep before my father became the type of agitated that came after many hours of drinking.

And that night, the first in years, I was able to sleep without nightmares.