Friday 9th June 2012
I went with such anticipation, fear and suspense to their house that fateful day. But I also had hope. It was forlorn. From the moment he answered the door and rudely demanded what I wanted, and told me that standing on the doorstep was sufficient enough for what I had come to discuss, I knew this wasn't going to end well. We managed to get inside the house for a more formal chat, however things soon got worse. His "holier than thou" mood and blatant disregard to the truth told me that I was never going to win. And so I sat there and listened to the rubbish he was saying, the lies, and the slanders, preconceived ideas, and things he thought he knew. He trashed the name of the love of my #life, his own daughter, and then brushed aside the idea of her being allowed to sit beside me and defend herself when I asked him. And then carried on blaming me for everything and more. I fought and fought, but his stubborn, immature attitude wasn't listening, so, in the end, I hung my head and stared at a little toy siege tower on the floor, and thought to myself, "I really wanna play with that". When he had accused me of everything and anything and had told me to give up and move on we prayed, I wondered why, the man clearly doesn't know Jesus, but went along nonetheless. After, there were faint smiles and we (reluctantly) shook hands and I left, the door closed behind me, and I turned to my mother and said "told you he is an arse" and then walked to the car.
