I'm forced to fake a smile, a laugh every day of my life -- Summer 2017

Living with my father taught me to keep my mouth shut about certain things - especially with the way that he treated me.  There were only few occasions where he actually left bruises, but I knew better than to show any weakness in front of him or anyone.  After the divorce, he had completely changed into a different man.  Davy and I were only nine or so when they divorced and it was our parents choice as to which one got which child.  I was so happy that Davy ended up with Mum - he was always so much more like her than I ever was.  I thought I was just like Dad... and then he broke.  He fell so hard after the divorce... he was an alcoholic and it took all my power to keep that hidden.  He had nearly killed himself numerous times from alcohol poisoning.  He had such high expectations of me at the same time... always trying to keep me on the straight and narrow.  Lecturing me on getting hurt.  Lecturing me on if I got off of the path he wanted for me.  And yet he never understood why I did not let anyone in.  This was one of the times that the alcohol got the best of him.  After yelling at me and beating me a little bit, he passed out.  I was still such a nice daughter and got him into his own bed, but I had to leave.  It was a breezy summer night and I was unsure of where I was going to go.  Then it hit me:  where was the only place that I was welcomed no matter what besides Mum's?  Stan's family was so great; his dad loved me and welcomed me whenever.  I sent word to Stan and went over when he sent word back that he was up.  I Flooed into their living room, hoping that I did not wake anyone else in the house.  I stepped into the living room, brushing myself off, and pulled my hair back out of my face.  "Hey," I whispered, glad that he was awake and to talk with me.  It was hard for me to trust anybody, and I thought that Constantine was the closest thing to me trusting anyone that has ever happened.  I barely trusted myself let alone other people.

I was not entirely sure why Daphne needed to visit at nearly three in the morning, but I knew better than to force her to open up to me.  I was sitting in the chair waiting for her when she showed up.  I heard the flames and knew she had arrived.  I was wearing just some sweats and a tank top since I really did nto care what I looked like with how late it was.  It was kind of a cool night for being the middle of summer, but I did not mind.  I stood up and walked towards where she was.  "Hey," I said in reply, smiling and speaking softly.  "Let's go on the porch... less chance to wake anyone."  I lead the way to the front porch -- my own home was the only place I could actually lead someone anywhere.  I opened the door quietly and we went to sit on the proch swing.  We sat there swaying for a little while in silence.  "Daphne... what happened?" I asked.  If she was here then she was going to talk a little bit about what was going on whether she wanted to or not.  If I was not a light sleeper, I would never have responded to her.

I sat there, grateful that Constantine could not see the bruise on my arm or the cut on my eyebrow.  I curled my feet up beneath me, letting my slightly too long sweats cover up my feet.  No one ever saw me looking quite like this, but I would be all casual and dressed down in ront of Stan.  Even if he could see, I still felt comfortable enough with him to think that I did not always have to be looking perfect.  I sighed and pushed some of my hair behind my ear that was too short to be pulled bacck into the pony tail.  "Stan... It's just... well, Dad had another episode tonight.  It got kind of bad this time," I said quietly.  Constantine knew that my father had a drinking problem -- only because he could smell it on me one night.  But he did not know that my dad's drinking led to other problems in the household.  I just hoped that Stan would think that this episode meant that I had to just be the one practically babysitting and raising my father for the night.

Little did Daphne know, but I could tell that there was more with her and her father than just his alcoholism.  I just never brought it up due to the fact that Daphne was secretive and mistrusting.  She did not put her faith in a lot of people and the fact that she confided in me, I did not want to ruin it.  But I had a feeling this had to do more than with just him getting wasted and passing out.  I reached out and easily found her hand.  I squeezed it gently.  "Daphne, what did he do?" I asked her.  It was time to let her know that she could open up to me.  I knew she barely trusted me despite years of friendship, but I had to let her know that I was here.  I did not judge her for her family.  It did not matter to me that her dad was an alcoholic and has nearly killed himself from alcohol poisoning numerous times; what mattered was the fact that he was abusive when he was drunk.  She hated peopple touching her -- a tell tale sign of abuse.  I knew that a lot of it had to be verbal, but it was clear that there was physical abuse in there, too.

Constantine's question caught me off guard.  I stared at him as he stared blankly ahead of him -- the look I had grown to get used to.  In school he normally wore sunglasses so others were not uncomfortable with his blank look in his eyes.  He still had color to them unlike how some people who go blind got the glassy white over their eyes.  Perhaps one day that would come.  Whenever he was in the common room he took the glasses off to be comfortable.  I could only imagine how it would drive me nuts to wear glasses all day long... especially when I did not need them.  I looked down at my hand in his, feeling his warmth on my skin comforted me.  I took a deep breath.  "Stan, he hit me.  I have a cut on my eyebrow and my other arm that you're not holding my hand to has a bruise on it and I think that my wrist may be broken -- it's killing me.  But this is just the way that it goes... then he passed out and I got him into bed and he'll apologize and say it'll never happen again like he always does.  But in a few days, a week, however long or short it may be before he gets that drunk again... I'll be dealing with the same thing.  It doesn't happen every time he gets drunk -- tonight was just especially bad for some reason," I said to him quietly.  I was sure that he would think I was insane for agreeing to stay with living with my father after all these years.  He needed someone, though, or else he would probably kill himself.  He was slowly killing himself right now, but I could not face the fact of leaving him alone... I did not want to be the cause of him hurting himself more than what he does on a regular basis.

I could hear it in her voice that she was just trying to be strong despite how she was truly feeling. "Daphne... you need to get out of there," I said quietly. I did not want her to go back home at all. "Why don't you stay here? I know Dad wouldn't care..." I did not think that she should be by herself, either. If her wrist was broken, she would need to go to St. Mungo's. Or perhaps we could just get a hold of either Aunt Lily or Aunt Chloe to avoid the hospital part.

I had tears in my eyes by how sweet Stan was being.  I rested my head on his shoulder, fighting back the tears.  I kept quiet until I had my emotions under control.  "Stan, that's great... but I can't.  I can't just leave him... he would never survive," I said, sighing.  I hated when my dad did this to me, but I could not just leave him.  He was my dad after all.

I held her hand tightly.  "Just stay tonight at least," I pleaded with her.  I did not want her to go without getting her wrist looked at.  This was just not right.  "And it's not the responsibility of the daughter to take care of the father..."  None of this made sense.  I hated it.  There was no reason for this to be happening to someone as nice as Daphne.  I mean, she could easily be a bitch... but that did not mean she deserved to be abused.

I smiled at him.  He was always so sweet to me.  "Are you sure your dad won't care?" I questioned.  I mean... I just showed up in the middle of the night.  I did not want Mr. Black to get angry with Stan thinking that we were sneaking around doing other things than him just being a good friend.  And that was when a hoarse, tired voice interrupted us.

I had woken up and heard voices.  It was clear they were trying to be quiet, but I still had to be a responsible parent and see what was going on.  I walked to the front porch and saw Daphne and Stan.  I was not entirely sure if Stan had called Daphne to come over to help him -- he did that sometimes when he was having a hard time with everything that had happened in the past year -- or the other way around.  I smiled slightly.  "His dad won't care so long as Stan sleeps on the couch and gives you his bed," I pointed out.  The boys used to share a bedroom until they were older.  We converted my office into a bedroom for Stan.  It was not fair to have them share a room when they got to school age, even though they were only home for the summer.

Normally I could hear someone coming up on us, but I had been so concerned about Daphne that I did not hear Dad.  "That was gonna be the plan, Dad," I assured him.  I was glad that he was always so cool about people having to crash at our house.  He had helped Tommy a lot, too, though that one I was not entirely pleased about.

I smiled at the two of them, groggy as I was.  "alright... well, why don't you come in and we can handle anythign else in the morning?  Try to get some rest," I suggested, wanting to just fall asleep myself.

I nodded, hearing my dad walk back into the house.  "Why don't we get you settled?" I suggested to Daphne.  I knew that she would not want to have us help her get fixed up, but we knew how to be discreet.  We had to be when there were issues with furry little problems and such.

I smiled and stood up, letting Stan lead the way intot he house.  I could only imagine that this was far easier for Stan than it was for I in the dark to maneuver around his house -- which, I realized, they probably never rearranged for this purpose.  We ended up in his bedroom and it was immaculate.  I could not believe it.  I chuckled slightly as he went to his closet and then stopped.  "What is it?" I asked him, not entirely sure what he was doing.

I smiled slightly.  "I was going to give you a shirt to wear to bed," I said, shaking my head.  "But I guess you're probably already in pajamas."  I really had no idea what I had been thinking.  Apparently I was a little tired or something.