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THE DARK DAYS AREN’T OVER

Lizzie

DECEMBER 25, 2002

T HE SOUND OF MY PARENTS SCREAMING HAD INTENSIFIED TO THE POINT WHERE I WAS glad that we lived on such a sprawling property. If we had neighbors living closer, the Gardaí would have been at the door.

Numb, I sat with my back to my bedroom door, listening to the accusations being thrown back and forth on the landing.

Nothing they were accusing each other of was new to me. I’d heard these fights a hundred times before, but the holidays always brought out the worst in my parents. Because it brought out the pain.

Sitting around the table for Christmas dinner with my sister’s empty chair was a stark reminder of how we would never be a family again.

It didn’t matter how well things went or how hard I tried.

I would never be enough for them to be happy.

I would never be enough for my father.