After that scene, I had to endure long, harsh words from Dad. I don’t know how he managed to get into my room, but suddenly I found myself sitting on my bed while Dad stood before me, scolding.
“It’s been years since Simmy became part of our family. Why are you complaining only now?” Dad asked, his forehead creased and teeth gritted.
I could sense he was holding back his anger, but his domineering presence overwhelmed me, so I just lowered my gaze and avoided meeting his eyes.
“I don’t know,” I whispered, clearing my throat.
“That’s it?” He roared. “You don’t know why you hate her so much, Azora? She’s been your guardian for years, yet now you act like a brat?”
“Why are you so angry, Dad?”
I flinched when he reached for my nightstand and threw it against the wall. It made a loud thud and shattered the glass. I froze in shock and fear. I had never seen Dad lose control like this before.
I could hear his deep, fast breaths, as if he was restraining himself from grabbing me and throwing me out of the window. I clenched my fists tightly. I didn’t realize I could provoke him so much.
And it was because of Simmy. I swallowed hard, trying to calm the lump in my throat. I couldn’t let him destroy my things, and I needed to understand why he cared so much about Simmy. Dad wasn’t like this when… when…
“You need to apologize to Simmy,” he said through gritted teeth.
I furrowed my brows and looked away. “I didn’t do anything wrong, Dad.”
“Apologize to her!”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. I looked at him, feeling a cold chill run down my spine from his deadly glare. “Why do you care so much about Simmy?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t let me see your face until you apologize to her.”
“No,” I grimaced, meeting his gaze defiantly. “Why do you care so much about Simmy? I never knew I could provoke you like this over Simmy. Who is she to you, Dad?”
“Azora,” he warned.
I looked away. “You weren’t like this with Mom. I don’t remember you ever being this angry when she was alive. But now… you defend Simmy more than you did your own wife? It feels like a betrayal to Mom’s memory!”
His backhand slapped across my face. I stumbled and fell to the floor from the impact. The stinging sensation lingered on my cheek, and my vision blurred. He had never hit me when Mom was alive. Why now?
“Show some respect, Azora! I didn’t raise you to be ungrateful!”
“And what about you, Dad?” I looked up at him, scorn evident on my face. I snorted. “What happened to you after Mom passed away? You turned into a useless father who can’t take care of his own daughter!”
“You!” He raised his hand again, and I closed my eyes, bracing for another blow.
Minutes passed, but I didn’t feel anything. I cautiously opened my eyes and looked up at Dad. He was standing by the window, shoulders tense, fists clenched at his sides, face red, breathing heavily. He stayed like that for a few minutes.
I pulled my knees up and hugged them. There were no words between us. We were both holding back our emotions; I suppressed the urge to cry. I didn’t know how to react or what to say after that. He didn’t hit me again, but I could still feel his rage simmering beneath the surface. I decided not to say anything and let him calm down before making any more comments.
In the past, Dad was the person I respected the most. Even though he was busy with work, he always found time to play with me and be Mom’s husband. We ate together, watched movies together, and traveled around the country together. I had many fond memories of them both.
But everything changed after that incident. One night, while Mom was driving and I was in the passenger seat playing with my toys, we got into an accident on the road. I don’t remember what happened exactly, just the intense impact that nearly threw me against the dashboard. If it weren’t for the seatbelt, I might have smashed my face into the dashboard. When I looked at Mom, I was shocked to see blood dripping from her head down her cheeks. I called out to her many times, but she didn’t respond. I sat there crying in the seat, not knowing what to do. Eventually, I found myself in the hospital, staring at Mom as she regained consciousness briefly before slipping away again.
My mind couldn’t process what had happened, and I was left staring at the wall, lost and numb to everything around me. The next thing I knew, there was a woman in white offering to help me get back to my old self again. During my time in that white room, a woman would bring me food and try to talk to me, even though I didn’t respond. She was always by my side, and after weeks, I slowly began to recognize her. She was Simmy, Mom’s best friend. I remembered she was the one Mom had been talking to just before she left us.
Since then, and up until that day, Simmy had been the one taking care of both me and Dad. Even though Dad was busy with work, Simmy could make him come home for the smallest reasons. Meanwhile, I, his own daughter, couldn’t assert my will against his.