My loneliness reaffirmed...

I collapsed onto my bed in a heap after another lonely day at school, missing my Mummy so much.
 I felt horrid. I had a headache due to crying for hours and I really didn't want to see or speak to anybody. I heard the front door open, followed by the sound of heavy boots and the door slamming. He wasn't in a good mood. I hated that my happiness depended on him. I couldn't stand the apprehension and worry about how he was feeling, because if he wasn't happy, then it seemed like he wouldn't let anybody else be, either. I felt guilty about disliking him, he must have been going through so much. He'd been with Mum for twenty years, and although they argued and he didn't treat her the way I think she deserved, he was grieving for her, too.
I felt my stomach tighten as I heard him coming up the stairs and I waited. My bedroom door swung open and he entered my room. No knock, no nothing.
"For fuck's sake, Kirsty. You're room's a fucking shit hole, and if you don't clean it up right now you're not going to nan's tomorrow." I felt my eyes well up all over again, I didn't understand how I even had any tears left.
 "Please don't shout at me," I said.
 "Don't back chat me, Kirsty. Do as you're fucking told."
He stormed out, leaving my door open. I felt so shit. I knew I was probably being selfish, but I couldn't remember a time when my father had asked me how I was feeling. I was never asked: "How was your day at school?" or, "How do you feel today?"
My Nanny Sue, however, did ask me how I felt and she consoled me, and my sister, Ells. I  loved going to see her because I knew she cared and looked after me.
 I laid down again, and for the millionth time I cried myself into a restless sleep.

I woke four hours later and stayed in my room for the rest of the night. When I heard him going to bed, I winced, jumped into bed and pulled the covers over my head. I'd been cleaning my room like he'd told me to. The landing floorboards creaked as he neared my bedroom. The door handle slowly turned and finally clicked open and I felt him standing behind me.
"Kirsty, I told you to tidy this fucking room. Why don't you just do as you're told?! I'm getting fucking sick of this, if it isn't done when I get up for work tomorrow your bags are packed and you're fucking gone. Do you hear me?!"
Of course I heard him, next door probably did, too. "It's half eleven I'll just do it when I get back from school tomorrow." I knew he'd be angry at me for back chatting, but it really was late and I'd be so tired in the morning if I didn't get to sleep. My room wasn't even that bad, although my uniform was on the floor along with a few of my other clothes. I accepted it needed cleaning, but I could do it tomorrow and I wouldn't have to rush.
 I could feel his gaze burning a hole in the back of my head, and I pulled the covers over my head again. This time I closed my eyes, and I hoped he'd just go away. I felt his hand clutch my duvet, and then the cold air hit my body. He'd torn the covers off of me, and they now lay in a heap in the middle of my floor. I cowered and waited for more shouting.
"Do as you're fucking told. Now!" He pointed his yellowing finger in my face, and I reached for my duvet. He slapped my hand back, and I looked up into his cold hollow eyes. I knew that I'd crossed a line.
"I'm sorry, please. I'll do it. Just go away," I pleaded.
 "Don't tell me what to fucking do. I'm sick of your attitude, Kirsty. I wish I'd never fucking had children."
 He continued to look at me, but after a few seconds he left. I knew I'd have to do my room tonight, no matter how tired I'd be in the morning. I didn't have a choice. I wasn't hurt by what he'd said, he'd told me too many times he wished he'd never had children ... and after a while, I began to wish he hadn't either.