The First Time My Boyfriend Hit Me, My Dad Told Me To Thank Him.

The Hospital Visit

The final hearing for the permanent restraining order against him was approaching. I gathered my evidence, prepared my statement, and tried to steel myself for seeing him again.

But the day before the hearing, I got a call from Aunt Kathy. “Your dad’s in the hospital,” She said without preamble.

“Heart attack.” She added.

My own heart seemed to stop. “Is he—is he okay?” I asked.

“He’s stable. But Catherine,” She hesitated.

“He’s asking for you.” She said.

I sat down hard. “I can’t. There’s a restraining order.” I said.

“I know. But maybe under these circumstances…” She said.

I closed my eyes, thinking. Was this real, or another manipulation? And even if it was real, did I owe him anything after everything he’d done?

“I’ll think about it,” I said finally.

I called Jasper immediately after hanging up. He confirmed what I suspected: visiting my dad in the hospital would technically violate the restraining order, but given the circumstances, it was unlikely to be enforced.

“It’s your decision,” He said.

“But be careful. Heart attack or not, he’s still the same person.” He said.

I thought about it all night. By morning, I had made my decision. I would go, but not alone. I asked Sadie to come with me.

A Changed Man?

The hospital was quiet when we arrived. Aunt Kathy met us in the waiting room and hugged me tightly.

“He’s in there,” She said, pointing to a room down the hall.

“I’ll wait here.” She said.

Sadie squeezed my hand. “I’ll be right outside the door.” She said.

I nodded, took a deep breath, and walked into my dad’s room. He looked smaller somehow, lying in the hospital bed—older, vulnerable.

When he saw me, his eyes widened. “Catherine,” He said, his voice weak.

“You came.” He said.

I stayed by the door. “Aunt Kathy said you had a heart attack.” I said.

He nodded. “Minor one. They’re keeping me for observation.” He said.

He gestured to the chair beside his bed. “Sit, please.” He said.

I hesitated, then moved to the chair, keeping my distance. “What do you want, Dad?” I asked.

He was quiet for a moment. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About your mother.” He said.

I waited, not trusting myself to speak. “She would be ashamed,” He said finally.

“Of what I’ve become? Of what I’ve done to you?” He asked.

I stared at him, shocked by the admission. “After she died, I was so afraid,” He continued.

“Of losing you too. Of failing you. I thought if I could control everything, keep you perfect, nothing bad would happen.” He said.

He looked at me, his eyes wet. “But I became the bad thing, didn’t I?” He asked.

I nodded, my own eyes filling with tears. “Yes.” I said.

“I’m sorry, Catherine. I know that’s not enough, but I am sorry.” He said.

I wanted to believe him. Part of me desperately wanted this to be real, to have my dad back. But I’d been fooled too many times.

“I need time,” I said finally.

“And space. The restraining order stays for now.” I said.

He nodded. “I understand.” He said.

I stood to leave. At the door, I turned back. “Get well, Dad.” I said.

He gave me a sad smile. “I’ll try.” He said.

Outside, Sadie was waiting. She took one look at my face and pulled me into a hug.

“You okay?” She asked.

I nodded against her shoulder. “I think so.” I said.

A New Path Forward

As we left the hospital, I felt lighter somehow. Not healed, not completely—the damage my dad and Troy had done wouldn’t disappear overnight. But for the first time, I felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a path forward.

The next day, I went to the hearing for the permanent restraining order. My dad didn’t show up, of course, still being in the hospital.

The judge granted the order based on the evidence. As I left the courthouse, I realized something important. I wasn’t just surviving anymore; I was fighting back. And I was winning.

That night, I sat in my dorm room, looking at the charm bracelet my mom had given me. For so long, I’d let my dad define who she was, what she would have wanted.

But I had my own memories of her, faint but real. She had been kind, loving, free-spirited—everything my dad had tried to crush out of me.

I put the bracelet on, feeling closer to her than I had in years. “I’m okay, Mom,” I whispered.

“I’m going to be okay.” I said.

And for the first time in a long time, I actually believed it.