Poisoned Blood 3: Revenge

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"You intoxicated idiot! Get out of here!" Dad yells, noticing that Saw is extremely drunk.  
"Heh, you have blue hands" He smiles like a moron.
"Yes my hands are blue! You strapped my hands down way too damn tight!" Dad says impatiently.
"Oh, that's good" Dr. Saw smirks.
"Let us go!" Dad yells. Doctor Saw growls and pulls a whiskey bottle out of his pocket. He chugs it, then smashes it over Dad's head.
"Dammit!" Dad yells, shaking his head to get the shards off his head and shoulders.
"That was fun" Saw laughs.
"Screw you!" I yell angrily.
"You little brat! I use nails not screws!" Saw yells. I glare at him.
"Get your drunk ass over here and take off the straps on my wrists" Dad says threateningly. Saw unties one of the straps on dads wrist, Dad punches Saw hard in the face. Saw punches him back even harder, breaking Dad's nose.
"DAD!" I scream. Then Saw goes grabbing Dads arm and strapping his wrist back in.
"Do you really think, I'm that dumb?" Saw says grumpily and leaves the room. Dad's nose bleeds down his face.
"Dad! Are you okay?!" I cry out.
"Yeah, I'm fine, I'll be fine" Dad says.
"Are you okay?" He asks me.
"Uh, I guess... But I'm really hungry and sore now" I whimper.
"I know, honey. Just try to rest" Dad says. I close my eyes. I breathe deeply. Trying my hardest to ignore the hunger pains and the hurting in my tummy. I was never given anesthetic or anything, the pain is bad.
"Why do people drink, dad? Some people become monsters when they drink..." I say.
"I'm not sure sweetie. Some people drink to forget or to try to fix their problems, some people drink to party, and some people drink just because they can. Drinking is bad, but sometimes we can't stop people from drinking" he explains.
"Like Aaron?" I say.
  He sighs, "yes, like Aaron."
"Why was Aaron here to help torture?" I whisper.
"He was a bad person sweetie. I don't know how the doctors got him out of prison, but he was here to torture us because they thought he would be a good torturer because he hated us" Dad explained, "Aaron didn't like me because he thought I was pathetic and annoying. He didn't like me because my parents liked me better. I was a good and quiet kid, and I didn't get into trouble. Aaron was loud and aggressive and he was very troubled. He got into a lot of bad things like drugs and alcohol and theft in his early teens. My parents tried to take control over his bad behavior, but they couldn't handle it. He turned into a bad person very fast. He was a bad person from the beginning. I was the boy that the adults loved because I was good and polite. Aaron wasn't" he continued, "Aaron probably didn't like you because you are my daughter. He didn't like you because he thought you were too sensitive and easily influenced. I tried to keep him away from you the best I could. I didn't want you around a man like that, I didn't want you to pick up on his constant swearing and I didn't want you to follow in his footsteps. I was also afraid that he might've hurt you" dad says, "but you don't have to worry about him anymore, he's gone now."
"I'm glad he's gone... he hurt me" I say, looking at my wrists and seeing the scars, then remembering how he burned my wrists to a melt so I wouldn't bleed out. I took a deep breath, trying to keep the painful memory out of my mind. I sighed and closed my eyes and rested.
  About twenty minutes went by, then an odd feeling came to mind and I felt a slight pressure in my chest.
"Dad?" I say quietly, he looks up.
"Yes baby?" He replies.
"Am I even 'me' still?" I ask.
"What do you mean honey?" He asks, looking at me in concern.
"I'm not myself anymore..." I say quietly.
"You are who you are, baby" Dad says.
"No... I'm not...." I say. Starting to feel bad and a little uneasy.
"babe, what are you talking about?" Dad wonders.
"I'm not myself anymore. I'm too damaged, most of my own blood is gone, most of my blood is not mine... I'm so mutilated and torn apart... I'm whiny and emotional, and my body is so unhealthy and my mind is messed up. How could I still be Carnee Campbell like this?" I say, scared, confused.
"Carnee, don't think that way. You are still you, sweetheart. You are still you. And I love you. No matter what happens to you, you'll always be Carnee Campbell and you will always be my daughter who I love. Whatever happens, I will always love you and you will always be the beautiful girl that everyone knows and loves" Dad says.
"I don't want to be me" I start to cry again. Feeling very weak. Dad sits there silently, thinking. Tears roll down my cheeks. "No one would ever deserve to be me right now..."
"I'm sorry." Dad says finally. "You shouldn't have to go through this, and I'm sorry" His voice was sounding quiet and sorrowful. "You're my Baby, Carnee, my only child, my daughter, and I wanted to give you the best life I could. But I have seemed to have failed you, I let this happen to you and I couldn't save you from this" Dad says, fighting  back sorrow.
"Dad....... You have, none of any of this is your fault" I whisper.
"It is my fault! The paramedics brought you to the first hospital, I should of stopped them. I had no idea that a doctor was going to hurt you like that, but I should have tried harder to get you out of there. Then the cops forced me to agree to bring you here in the first place, I should've just let them throw me in jail, so then you would've stayed home with Claire safe and sound till I served my sentence and came home, instead of me being so ignorant and letting them send you to this hell in the first place!" Dad bursts out, finally showing his rage and anger. "This is hell for you and they'll kill you if I don't do something, but I'm so stupid I don't know how to get you out of here!"
"Dad....." I say quietly. "Please, don't blame yourself"
   He just sits there enraged, breathing deep and unsteady through his nose. I can't tell he's angry, he always breathes heavily through his nose and his eyebrows crinkle a certain way when he's angry.
"Dad...." I say.
He gets totally enraged and smashing the back of his head against the wall, his hands in tight fists, smacking the armrests of the chair, his eyes flashing with rage and anger and fear.
"Daddy stop!" I yell. But he keeps growling and thrashing his head.
"Dad! please stop!" I cry out, seeing his veins becoming very visible against his skin on his neck and temples. He shouts and curses. I lay there quietly, not knowing what to do.
"Daddy please stop! I think you're hurting yourself!" I try to tell him. He starts to calm down a bit, still jolting with a bit of anger every few seconds.
"Screw this place!" Dad shouts. He usually doesn't swear, but I guess I can make an exception this time...
"Daddy... Are you okay?" I say quietly, crying. He calms down and sighs.
"Oh baby, I'm sorry for scaring you..." Dad says, calming down, trying to catch his breath. I could tell he felt bad about getting so angry in front of me.
"It's.... I-its okay" I whisper. I move my head to the side, calming down, trying to relax. I just lay there, staring at the wall.
"Sleep sweetie" Dad says. Somehow that makes me want to stay up, I don't want to fall asleep.
"Sleep, baby, sleep" Dad says again. I sigh. I look down at the floor, then immediately whipping my head to the other direction, after seeing Claire's dumped ashes on the floor, her urn smashed to pieces, and the decaying bodies of the dogs. That's when I notice how bad it smells in here. My throats dry, my nose burns, my eyes sore from crying. I cry again. My sadness comes into mind, remembering Claire. I remember when Dad and Claire got married, they were so happy together, we were a good, happy family. Even though mom was gone. I can feel my own heartbeat as it aches as I miss Claire and Mom. Dad saw I was looking at her ashes, and immediately feeling sad. I know he misses her a whole lot, but he doesn't say anything about it, he doesn't like to mention it, and he's more focused on me than anything else. He just sits there quietly.
"Dad?" I say quietly.
"Yes?" He replies.
"It hurts" I say, meaning it as physically and mentally. He knows exactly what I mean.
"I know" Dad says. "Go to sleep baby". He wants me to rest, have a bit of energy, have a break from the pain, but I can't sleep. I'm too afraid, too sore. Dad should sleep too, but he wants me to fall asleep first.
"Dad I can't sleep" I say quietly.
"Just try to relax..." Dad says. I sigh and shift to get a bit more comfortable. I close my eyes. I just try to think of happy times, but that all melts away when the torture memories start to fill my mind again. I sigh, slow my breathing, not think about anything at all, just a big black space, and silently cry myself to sleep.