Chapter Text
Yelling, yelling and yelling.
Friday had rolled around, which meant Cindy's father would come home late, smelling of engine oil, metal, and most importantly, of liquor. To be specific - of either Jägermeister, Jack or vodka cranberry.
“Fuckin' asshole! Ya think I ain't got a lot on ma plate already!? You wanna get another DUI and spend a fortune on bail!?”
That is usually what her daddy drank, she could remember very well by now.
He’d always say: “Cici, sweetheart, I’m goin' to the bar, I'm really cravin' jager (or jack, and so on), ya know? You'll keep it a secret from mommy, right?”
And of course, Cindy would keep her mouth shut, not wanting to get her father or herself in trouble. (Getting in trouble meant yelling, threatening, and lots and lots of owow-)
Just thinking about it sent shivers down her spine.
She didn't want anyone to get mad.
“Can you get off my fuckin' back, woman!? Try workin', instead of layin' around doin' nothin', you lazy bitch! One drink don' hurt nobody!”
Her family's southern accents made their fights sound a little funky, like if they were chewing on rubber bands while screeching harsh words at each other.
It made her feel just a little relieved. She knew the fights were bad, but it is nice to have something to take your mind off of it like that, no?
“Don't fuckin' play that card on me, dickhead! I know damn well your life ain't that hard to drink nearly EVERY! SINGLE! DAY!”
Well, Cindy doesn't pay attention to the accents when her mother yells degrading insults at her (These thoughts make her body feel owow-), or when her drunk father threatens to kick them out of the house and leave them to die, freezing and starving.Cindy knows her father doesn't actually mean it, he would never do something like that to his little girl.
When her daddy is drunk, he is a whole different person.
She doesn't understand how that strangely-flavoured water can do that to him.
Why does it make her daddy so aggressive, so spooky, so unalike to how he really is?
Why does she feel her muscles weaken, her heart pounding, anytime he enters their home, drunk like crazy from that weird liquid?
Once, a long time ago, Cindy secretly took a chug of liquor from her father's cabinet, but, she didn't feel angry or aggressive, she felt sick. Her head felt heavy, the whole room was spinning, and she thought she was gonna hurl any second.
She recalls her mother and Nana rushing her to the E.R. in her Nana's old Hyundai.
That is all she can (and wants to) remember.
However, Cindy can't forget the hell her mother gave to her father when he came home.
No matter how much she tries to make that memory disappear, it'll always haunt her mind.
(Of course she won't forget, it was the first time her parents had laid their hands on each other, the first time policemen were called to their house..)
Is it different for her, because she is a girl? Does it only work like that on her daddy? And the other creepy men in the bar?
She felt sick to her stomach.
“GO TO HELL, YOU CUNT!”
It went dead silent. All that could be heard were light and fast footsteps and some doors creaking and immediately being shut, making a loud BANG!
Mother probably stormed off outside to smoke, perhaps even to cry.
Cindy heard loud, heavy stomps coming towards her room.
Oh please no, what did she do? She was quiet. She didn't move an inch. She was being good!The door to her bedroom was gently opened. That was quite unusual for their household.
In the doorframe stood a tall, manly figure, the old, now yellowish kitchen lights emitting light to the figure from behind, barely showing the shadow's features.
“Dad?” Cindy managed to squeak out just one word. She did not know what to expect from him at the moment. Should she be scared, prepared to make a run for it? Is he going to sit down next to her, brush her hair with his fingers, tell her everything is going to be okay?
“Hey bubba,” he coughed, “wanna go to the supermarket with ol' dad? I need some smokes." The faintest smile appeared on his face.
Oh! He just wants to go buy cigarettes!
Cindy felt as if big weights were taken off of her shoulders.
“Yeah, okay!” She huffed with relief, her eyes sparkling, and jumped off her bed. She had expected the worst, but no! Daddy is nice to her today!
Maybe, just maybe, there IS still hope for the world!
Her father walked out of the door of her room to the hall to throw on a jacket and put on shoes. He kept swaying left and right, which was.. alarming? Cindy followed him, like a duckling follows its mother.
She dressed herself in her cutest purple puffy jacket with magenta flowers, a gift she got from her Nan!
Quickly slipping on her usual pink sneakers, Cindy ran outside to her father, who was already at their car.
A black Ford Fiesta, which he bought after they moved from Texas to Florida. While, according to Cindy, the car had a weird shape, it was comfortable and new, and that is all that mattered to her.
Her dad grunted, struggling to stick the key in the car door's keyhole for a good minute. The evening mid-October cold air made Cindy's legs shiver, she just wanted to get inside that car already!
Cindy had started to reconsider her decision to join her daddy on his drive to the supermarket. If he can't unlock the car, how is he going to drive?
Nervousness started to come after Cindy.
“Are you done yet, dad?”, she asked desperately, playing with a sticker on the back wind shields.
He drunkenly mumbled something in reply. After more grunting and presumably cussing (he really was hard to understand), the car was finally unlocked! Finally!
As Cindy was about to jump in the car, seeking warmth, she was interrupted by a question, a question she never thought she would hear!
“Cici, how 'bout you sit in the front, eh?”
Her face lit up. “Really!? You'd let me!?”
“Sure, why not? We won't run inna cops, anyway.”
All nervousness and doubts suddenly went away! She can finally ride in the front seat! Something she wasn't allowed to do.
At the speed of light, she seated herself in the seat next to the driver, happy and eager to start their journey to the supermarket!
Her father started the car (which took him about two tries) and drove out of the driveway.
Except for the motor and other car thingies Cindy did not understand, the car was deadly quiet. It felt a bit embarrassing.
It was not quiet for long, though.
“Mind if I turn on some music?”, her dad broke the silence, again talking so incomprehensibly, Cindy barely understood a word he said.
Cindy uttered a hushed ‘yes’.
She had expected some sort of calm music, something like pop, which she listens to on that YoonTube (or whatever it’s called, Cindy can't remember) app, so she definitely got a mini heart attack when the radio started to screech this abnormality at full volume;
‘IT'S JUST ONE OF THOSE DAYS WHEN YOU DON'T WANNA WAKE UP, EVERYTHING IS FUCKED, EVERYBODYYY SUCKS-!’
The loud, heavy soundwaves coming from the speaker shook Cindy's whole body, leaving her just a little numb and speechless. This was not what she had awaited.
The sun has fully set. It was dark. The pitch black road and trees felt uncanny. A tiny bit of nervousness had returned to Cindy, and the loud metal music harassing her ears was not helping.
‘NO HUMAN CONTACT, AND IF YOU INTERACT, YOUR LIFE IS ON CONTRACT-!’
Her head started to hurt. She turned her head to look at her daddy instead of the dark, eerie road.
‘YOUR BEST BET IS TO STAY AWAY!-’
He cannot keep the car in the same lane, he keeps driving left, right and in the middle. If watched from the sky, it would seem as if the car kept driving in a wavy curve.
Not to mention he is driving fast, too, definitely over the set speed limit.
Cindy's gaze was noticed by her dad, who looked back at her, smirking.
‘IT'S ALL ABOUT THE HE SAYS, SHE SAYS BULLSHIT! I THINK YOU BETTER QUIT LEAVIN' SHIT SLIP-!’
“Cici, wanna see somethin' cool?” Her father's voice basically faded away, the loud music overpowering it.
‘OR YOU'LL BE LEAVIN' WITH A FAT LIP!’
“HUH!?” Cindy yelled out as much as she could, hoping he could hear her.
‘IT'S ALL ABOUT THE HE SAYS, SHE SAYS BULLSHIT!
“I SAID,” his voice is now way louder, loud enough to be heard, “DO YOU WANNA SEE SOMETHIN' COOL!?”
Cindy simply nodded. If she yelled a bit more, her throat would hurt.
Her dad adjusted himself in his seat, and quickly steered the steering wheel to the left, then jerked the steering wheel back to the right, making Cindy basically fly in her seat like a paper doll.
The only response she got back from her dad was him, howling like a hyena, thinking it was top-tier comedy to risk their safety for a stupid joke.
The alcohol must be eating away at his brain, Cindy thought.
She started to feel nauseous. Her eyelids felt heavy, and her vision was fuzzy.
Cindy layed back in her seat, trying to block out the loud music still playing, hoping to fall sleep and wake up at the supermarket, or even at home. The ride was tiring her. She regrets agreeing to join her dad on his journey to buy cigarettes.
Her eyes are halfway shut, her body is relaxed. She could've been able to fall asleep,
until unfamiliar bright white lights flash her in the face,
until the tires screeching sting in her ears,
until her dad gasps really loud,
until there is just dark.
The last thing she felt was something balloon-like pressing onto her stomach.
Then, she couldn't hear, or speak, or move, couldn't even think.
Just pitch black nothing.
Is she going to stay like this forever?
Shooting pain from her lower half of her legs makes her come back to her senses.
Her eyes, half-open, and ears sting like crazy, her whole face feels wet from some sort of thick liquid, and all that she can feel in her mouth is an overwhelming, nauseating metallic taste.
Her legs, or whatever's left of them, feel mushy, tangled, crushed. And especially unbearably painful.
The pain makes her cry out.
Hopefully, someone will hear and come save the poor little Cindy.
She cannot move her body, except for her face and head. Cindy opens her eyes fully. Her eyeballs burn and sting, tears blocking her vision. It's blurry, she can hardly make an image of her surroundings.
It's dark, the only source of light are the lights from the other car, all that is visible are glass shards reflecting every light that hits them, pools and splatters of dark grey, presumably blood, and the deformed dashboard and overall front of the car, now only few centimeters away from her than it normally is.
Excruciating, throbbing pain from her mushy legs now settled down to her thighs and stomach too.
Cindy's entire lower half is in unimaginable agony, agony a five-year-old would normally never experience.
She sobs. That's all she can do.
Hot tears burn her face like fire, snot and blood run from her nose. Both of her arms and one side of her face ache and itch, very likely cut with glass shards from the shattered windows.
There's something soft pressing on her face and stomach. She wants to take a look at it.
Her neck, probably the least painful part of her body, feels sore. It's movements hurt, but definitely less than her lower half.
Cindy manages to bear the pain and raise her head higher.
Oh, it's an airbag. It's slightly deflated and bloody.
The protection blocks the view to her legs.
She moves her eyes to the left.
She wishes she hadn't.
The dashboard and steering wheel on her dad's side are pushed too far, making him basically lay on it. His airbag is barely inflated and pressed against his stomach.
His shirt and jacket are torn.
His arm is weirdly bent.
Cindy attempts to focus on his face. She moves her head slightly to the left.
Blood covers his whole face, not showing a tiny piece of his features.
Glass shards cover his whole top half.
Cindy wishes it is just her mind messing with her. It is dark after all, isn't it? Perhaps he is okay, and the dark is painting a whole different reality?
She wails out loud. Both the physical and mental pain are too much to bear.
Her daddy is so close, but still out of her reach. Cindy wishes she could hold out her hand to him, to touch his back, his face.
He is right next to her, but he feels so distant.
Not a word has escaped his mouth. Not even a sob, a quiver, a breath. He lays there, lifelessly.
Is he still living?
Tears run down her face without a break. Tears and blood make Cindy's whole face red.
Oh, the horror it would be if someone from school found her like this - crying non-stop, face red and ugly, laying here in complete misery!
The pain from her left half is coming to her ribs now, too. The pain is just too much to handle.
Her whole body is in agony.
The cramping in her torso feels heavy on her spine, forcing her to lay back into the passenger's seat.
No one is coming. No one is saving them.
Did she do this to herself? Was she supposed to tell her dad to not drive? Would he listen to her? Was she supposed to rat him out to her mother? Would she listen to her?
She closes her eyes and lets her head fall gently to the side, leaning partially on the seat and her shoulders.
The world feels slightly peaceful now.
Good night, Cindy.