Young Writers Society

*I know it has a few errors and I excuse myself for that, but I hope you guys like it.* If you want to correct it, go for it.

NOTE: It is LGBT

This is the second chapter in Lilith's POV. Enjoy

Chapter 2

Lilith Morgan

You don’t always get to see a serial killer in the middle of the action and live to tell about it. Actually, you don’t always get to be the target for a moment and then get to be free. What’s going on with this world? I live right next to the house where she jumped the guy. I don’t think I will be able to sleep today either.

I take a deep breath and open the door to face the person responsible for my birth and the person who I am responsible for. “Why are you so late?” he ask, but I ignore him paying more attention to the mess around him. My dad gets up from the couch and looks at me. “Did you brought what I ask you for?” he asks and I nod. He asked for potato ships, soda, energy drinks, and more ships.

I wish I was more responsible? I wish I took care of him more. I wish he didn’t have so much control over me.

My dad has dementia, he was/is a drug addict, and he loves energy drinks. I say was/is because he always tells me that he isn’t an addict, but he escapes sometimes to get his stuff. He expects me not to noticed, but when you are the one cleaning the house you notice the little big details.

“Where are the Doritos?” he asks getting a bit irritated.

“Mr. Morgan is right there, you can find it,” I say. I can’t refer to him as my Dad. He doesn’t remember me, only sometimes. They say he may have Alzheimer’s, but they don’t know for sure yet.

He keeps searching and I start to pick up the wrappers and ship bags from the floor. “Oh, found it,” he says exited. I look at him. His eyes are shinning like a child who just found a treasure. I inherited his eye color. Grey. A silver grey.

I miss my old Dad. The Dad that used to bother me and drive me to school as a child. Now I drive him to appointments and take care of him. Don’t get me wrong, I love him. I just miss him sometimes.

“Lilith!” he calls loudly, and I look at him. “What are you doing in the floor? Tell your mom to help you,” he says. For a moment I thought he remembered, but he mentioned mom. She left us after a year of him being diagnosed with dementia. She didn’t like his child-like behavior, so she left me taking care of him all this seven years. The first two years a woman was taking care of him, but after a graduated from high school I’ve been taking care of him. “Get up child,” he insists. I get up and pretend to go upstairs to look for mom and then go down. “What did she say?”

“She’s busy coming up with new ideas,” I lie to him. He nods and opens the bag of Doritos. I keep cleaning after that and throwing things away. I then go outside to throw away the trash.

I wonder where the girl lives.

I get inside to find my Dad with a knife. I get scare, but is not the first time it has happen. “Who are you and why are you getting inside my house?” he asks.

“I am you care giver Mr. Morgan,” I explained calmly to avoid getting him irritated. “Please calm down.”

“Care giver? For what?” he asks confuse. I take a deep breath.

“You have being diagnosed with dementia Mr. Morgan, but I am here to take care of you and make sure you stay in perfect health,” I explain. He slowly puts the knife down. “Give me the knife Mr. Morgan,” I suggest, but he shakes his head.

“I’ll put it away myself,” he says and walks to the kitchen confuse. I walk behind him at a safe distance, and he puts it away. “Where’s Cathy? Where’s my daughter Lilith?” he asks.

I’m Lilith, Dad. I’m your little Lilith.

“Cathy left a year ago,” I say. “I am Lilith Dad.” He looks at me. It is not the first time he asks that and it won’t be the last time either.

“You have grown Lilith. I hope you do well in life,” he says. My eyes, as always, get watery on that hope because we are hoping for the same thing. “Now, where did I put my beer?” he asks.

“You ran out a while ago, I’ll buy tomorrow,” I lie. He hasn’t drank beer for three years and a half. He nods and takes an energy drink.

“How old are you Lilith? How old are you now?” he asks me opening the can. “The last I remember you were a sophomore in high school.”

“I am twenty-three Dad,” I answer. He nods and then drinks a bit of the energy drink. He puts his head down and begins to cry. He always does this when he remembers something and he realizes reality. He puts the energy drink down and hugs me.

“I’m sorry. It must be a burden for you Lilith,” he says, sobs interrupting his sentences. “Daddy loves you my Princess. Just know that your Daddy loves you.” I begin to cry too, even when is a repetitive thing.

“I know Dad. I love you too,” I say to him.

I want this moment to last for at least another day, but I know that he will fall asleep with his tears to wake up in the morning as if nothing had happened.