I had forgotten how similar looking I was to my mother. I wondered if that was the reason my father could not stomach the sight of me.

My father kept his sad gaze on the picture as he whispered, "You are the reason she is dead."

It was not the first time he had said those words and it would not be the last.

The breath I released from my chest was painful "What do you mean?"

I almost did not recognise my voice. It came out far more vulnerable and childish than I intended.

He never stuck around to explain what he meant by those words.

Slamming the picture book shut, he stood up and pointed at me with so much venom in his eyes that it scared me.

"She was happy and then suddenly she wasn't." He spat out "You don't think that has something to do with you?"

I shook my head, refusing to listen to his words.

"Maybe it was something to do with me." I whispered, "But I don't think it is solely all my fault."

In a blink of an eye, he was in front of me and in my face

"What are you trying to hint at, you little bitch?" He bit out, the beer strong on his breath.

"That maybe it was not my fault." I matched the bitterness in his tone as I replied "She never left a note. We will never know why."

He staggered back until he was a few meters away from me.

It all happened so fast. Maybe my tears had something to do with my delayed reaction.

I ducked just in time before the bottle smashed against the wall behind me.

If I had moved a second later then I would been hit by the beer bottle.

His eyes widened as soon as it happened.

My body was shaking violently. My sobs were shaky too.

I closed my eyes and let out quietly "Get out."

"What?" He replied, his voice just as quiet.

I could not breathe. My chest and my throat were shaking too much and the air in the room did not feel safe enough to inhale.

"Get out of here!" I screamed with the last remaining energy I had in me "I have never wanted you to leave before. I have always wanted you to stay but now I don't want to see your face again. Get out."

My father opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but he chose not to say it.

"I'm so sick of being alone. I'm so sick of waiting for you to come home. I'm so sick of waiting for you to step and become my dad." I sobbed out, my throat aching as the words left me "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I have no desire to call you my father and I'm sorry I don't want anything to do with you. I'm sorry for what I am about say next."