Morning came too soon, and the soft light of the sun couldn't chase away the heaviness that hung in the apartment.
Nina opened her eyes, still holding her teddy, wishing the garden from her dreams had followed her into the real world.
But the familiar stench of alcohol filled the air, and she knew, before seeing him, that her father had returned.
The clatter of bottles and the harsh slam of his boots across the floor made her stomach twist. Her mother flinched as he shouted again, fists raised, anger spilling over like a storm.
Nina pressed herself into her corner, tears pooling in her wide eyes, clutching her teddy tightly. She whispered to herself, "Please, let it stop… please, let it stop," knowing that the world outside her dreams was cruel and unfair. For a moment, she closed her eyes, imagining the garden again, butterflies circling freely, sunlight warming her face, a fragile place where even pain could not touch her.
After the everyday repeated situation.
For the first Nina went beside her Dad with fears in her eyes.
Daddy she said nervously.
He looked at her with disgust and anger before she could say a word,
he pushed her so hard she fell on broken bottles, sharp pieces of glass cut in to her tiny hands and knees.
It hurt.
It hurt so much.
"Get out! He shouted!
His voice was loud… too loud. It made her flinch, her little body trembling as she tried to understand what she had done wrong.
Who's your Dad
I said who is your dad?
You bastard and I don't have a child born from a bastard.
Don't ever call me dad, Useless.
He stood up and left.
She froze.
The word was strange. She didn't understand it… but the way he said it made her heart ache in a way she had never felt before.
Slowly, she lifted her teary eyes to look at him.
Daddy…?
Wasn't he her daddy?
Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to ask… but no words came out.
Her chest tightened, small and fragile, as if something inside her was being squeezed too hard.
Her daddy… said that to her.
The man she thought loved her.
Warm tears rolled down her cheeks, one after another, as confusion and pain filled her little heart.
Blood dripped quietly from her palms and knees, but she didn't even notice anymore.
It wasn't the glass that hurt.
It was him.
She sat there, small and broken, clutching her dress with trembling fingers, crying softly
not loud… not screaming…
just the quiet, aching cries of a child who didn't understand why her world suddenly felt so cold.
Would mummy say this too.
Tears flowed down her face as Nina wept bitterly.