Charter in watchman-- my writing

I wrote this for my comic book class, i think its the best I;ve ever written.

I had to write a charter to live in the world of "watchman"


Father,

When I was a little girl, I would sit a pond my grandfathers lap as he would tell me tales of the past. Of safer time when normal everyday people would dress up and become superheroes. Superheroes who would fight crimes when the cops were too lazy or deemed unworthily of their attention.

I looked into the mirror as I wiped the tears from my eyes, after all these years I still had tears to cry. Turning on the tap above the sink looked into my reflection as my eyes looked back to me.
Tonight would be the last night.  I promised myself as I cupped the water in my hands washing my face.

Grandfather would often me tales of news paper or reports simplify then for me at my young age. He used to tell me tales of Mother and of you, Father, of how you both would help people from disasters...
Until that un-faithful day, the day no one saw coming. You and mother were responding to a wife abuse phone call.
No one saw it coming.  No one knew the building would explode- no one knew of the meth lab inside if that pot was not left alone, she might have survived.
I watched as the strongest man in the world, fall through the cracks. It started with a few pills to dull the pain- the lost of mother.
Soon you would be gone for hours at end, leaving me alone for days with grandpa to care for me.  Soon the tales of my superhero Father became stories of the past as I was forced to grow up and face reality.

I smiled sadly as I looked around the shack like home. I watched as this once mighty castle turned in to shack.  I watched as things began disappearing slowly, it started with Grandmothers tea set. This broke Grandfathers heart, Grandfather tired to remind strong for my sake, as his things to begin missing.

I never know anything was wrong with you until I was 12. I was staying up late in hopes to see Santa Clause, when you stumbled in to the house yelling off key war songs. Grandfather rushed to your side telling you to shut up- that you would wake me. He then asked where you placed my Christmas presents. You laughed, asking if you even had a daughter, to high to notice me standing in the door way crying. You where to high to notice me, even though you looked right at me before, passing out in your urine soaked pants.
From that day on, I know longer believed in superheroes or Santa Clause.   
Last month Grandfather passed away, I buried him alone with only the priest and undertaker at my side. It was a cold November morning; the sky was full of clouds and rain. I caught a cold standing in the rain crying the lost of the only person in the world who loved me.
Two days after the funeral you arrived home work a whore on your arm. Yelling out to Grandfather that you had good news, I told you mine first.
You yelled at me calling me a liar, before you beat me for the first time. Your whore left shortly after I fell to the ground in pain, crying as you ran off behind her. With in the week you began to sell what was left inside the house, things Grandfather would never allow you to sell before.
Last week when you learned his will was realised you demanded whatever was left to you in the will. I told you nothing, which was a lie, the truth was: Grandfather had given me everything. Including the 2 million dollar life insurance policy he had.

I walked in to the living room stopping to find you lying on the couch. You had passed out with the needle in your arm. How easy would be for me to fill the needle with air and push in to your vain.  End the pain and suffering you have caused me most of my life.  This home was once a castle, full of love, but with the lost of Mother, I lost both my parents.

With the lost of Grandfather I am now an orphan, but in his will he told me to take the money and get of the city- leave the county. He had all the papers in his will for me to travel where ever I wanted. By the time you are able to read this I will be half way around the world, I am not going to say where.

Removing the needle I place it beside your ash tray.  
Your once muscle tan arms have all but milted away from years of drug use an inactiveness, your face has sunken in with darken eyes that no longer have their bright glow.
  I have no idea how you would even begin to clean yourself up- if it was even possible. Your body is covered in bruises and open sores.  You are a shadow of a man- nothing to be prude of.

Before turning around to tuck a blanket around you, the one strong hero of my life, now turned in to this week pitiful man.

Good bye Father.