Year 13. A dark silhouette in front of me of no color. Who are you?

2001, my dad is soaring at work. He stands in front of the mirror combing his hair, with his aviator sunglasses, a confident grin, and a narcissistic look.

The pile of trash by him fell off. He stood straight, hinting me "Come clean this up", the same tone on his business calls. I hated those calls. Egoistically loud, but I had to be quiet. Otherwise, it'd be a malicious stare scaring me to tears again.

He walks out, his head straight up, not a single check on me carrying two bags of waste following behind. 

A bright sunny day. A dark silhouette in front of me of no color. Who are you? Do you care about what I need? I give up to please.

The door in the heart is shut.