"Father...father look at me as I talk to you." I demand dropping my book bag on the floor out side my room.
"hmm?" he says not looking at me, being much calmer than he could ever be in real life. This is how he always is in my dreams, saying exactly what he would in real life but in this calm, monotonousness that make me want to scream.
"Father I hate you. I have always hated you, you have never been there for me for anything. I hate you very much and with all of heart." I try to subdue the anger in my voice. He still doesn't look up at me.
"Well, that's nice dear, I hate you too." he finally looks up at me "I didn't even want you in the first place. But, ******, you were healthy and your mother wouldn't have any of." Then he looked away.
"Father, would you care if I killed myself?" I asked the tears falling from my eyes and my hands shaking, I'm so angry at his calmness.
He chuckles "Of, course not darling.."
"DON'T CALL ME THAT YOU ARROGANT SON OF *****!!"
"Gun's in the study," he says
Then I wake up.
A thousand times I've had this dream.
Not once have I been able to convince my subconscious that he would care even a little bit.