My father

One day there was a knock at the door. I was around 3 years old. I opened the door to a strange man holding a bunch of dead flowers most likely stolen front the cemetery near by. "Doesn't Daddy get a kiss?" he asked as he picked me up and sat me on his hip. Immediately I started to cry and peed all over him. hadn't had much to do with men so I was completely terrified of them. I knew I had a Dad but I don't remember ever actually seeing him before that. Dad was wearing his 'all greens'. A fleecy track suit with the words 'Long bay Correctional Services' on the back.
That night Dad took me to Coles supermarket to pick up something for dinner. It was about 7.30pm when we left in a taxi. I watched as Dad sat on the isle floor testing the shoe polishes. A security guard followed us around the shop as Dad put small items in his pockets. I was becoming extremely embarrassed so I got some money for a slinky and sat out near the registers to play with it. I waited and waited. It was midnight and the shop was closing. The security guard seen that I was still there and went to look for my Dad. He was asleep on the floor. We made it back home without any food at around 2am. That was how I was introduced to my father.
Dad was only home for about a week at a time. The police were always dragging him away and locking him up. When he would be let out he would come home with a different car every time. "My brother's lending it to me" he would say. I knew about his lies. The police also knew. My Dad was never a very clever criminal. I don't know why they kept letting him out. They should have thrown away the key.
When my Mum and Dad were together all they did was fight. They didn't fight behind closed doors. They fought without a care in the world. It was always about drugs, money sex or alcohol. Things were thrown, walls and doors were punched, usually people were physically hurt and the day almost always ended with police and sometimes ambulance at my home.
Mum and Dad wouldn't just fight at home. In the streets they would scream at each other from across the road both off their faces and causing a huge scene. I would be so embarrassed and want to crawl into a hole and die. But instead I would have to run after my Mum crying and begging her to stop yelling, while stopping her from jumping in front of busses.
I didn't like anything about my Dad. In fact, I despised him. I would stare at him and I would be wishing in my head that he would drop dead right in front of me.
He didn't just abuse my Mum. He would abuse me too, especially if I got in the way trying to protect my Mum. I could never let him abuse my Mum so sure enough I always got hurt too. If he had a knife to my Mum's throat, then it would end up against mine. If I would stop him from kicking my Mum in the stomach it would be my stomach he'd kick.
I only ever saw my Dad when he was 'out of it'. The only time he was ever sober was when he was locked up, and even then he was getting stuff smuggled in for him.
The domestic violence in the house continued as I got older. The windows were always smashed from bottles and ashtrays thrown at them. We never had a working house phone because Dad would always smash them with a baseball bat when we tried to call the police on him.
When I was 22 years old I found out that my Dad isn't my biological Father. The emotions I felt were unexplainable. All those years of trying to have a Father Daughter relationship because I thought he was blood. All the years of hell I went through. It would have been so much easier back then if I'd known he wasn't even my real Dad. He was Father to my older brother but my Mum cheated on him while he was locked up. It all started making perfect sense. My family had lied to me for 22 years!
Currently my "Dad" is locked up. His latest charge was attempted murder.
I will never know who my real Father is. But really I don't care.