i lie to my dad that everything is fine between us, but i secretly still hate him for an injury that happened a year ago

it’s been a year since it happened, a year and a few months actually. i act all buddy buddy with my dad but i secretly still detest him for what happened. he asks if everything is good between us. i lie and say yes, nothing is wrong. and then i curse him out in my head. it’s kind of flip flop though. he can be really mean sometimes, and he doesn’t really apologize, he just pretends it never happens. last year when i was 17, right before graduating high school, i was running and i fell super hard. i didn’t know it yet, but i had broken my ankle in 3 places. i didn’t feel much from the adrenaline at first, and my dad forced me to school, but as the day went on the pain was horrible. i went to the nurse and basically cried on the phone begging for my dad to pick me up until he caved in. i remember i struggled to get to the car and i asked to go urgent care and he told me it wasn’t that bad and that we can just put ice on it when we get home. when we got home, i was in excruciating pain, but i was afraid of mentioning it in fear of upsetting my dad more. so i laid there on the couch for hours almost wanting to die. it was my first ever broken bone, but throughout my life my dad had repeated that “if i broke a bone, i’d know it” so i kept convincing myself it was just twisted. but later i was begging him to take me to the doctor and he kept insisting i was fine. the next few days were almost torture. i could barely move, and he didn’t help me at all. i have this one specific memory of trying to walk on my broken ankle to the bathroom, and it took me 15 minutes for a 20 foot walk. and he only yelled at me because i was blocking his way in front of the tv. i collapsed on the bathroom floor and i was too embarrassed to call for help, so i laid there for 2 hours until i managed to drag myself up. for those 2 hours, i had thoughts that i struggle to describe. they were almost a visceral hatred and self deprecation like nothing i had ever felt before. and when i got out, he didn’t ask if i was okay. 4 days after the break, i beg my mom to come take me to the doctor and she finally gives in. they do an x ray and the doctor genuinely gasps upon seeing my ankle. it was the color of barney. she ordered an immediate x ray and i had fractured my ankle in 3 different places. i don’t remember the exact names but my ankle had literally been broken into 3 different pieces. i needed surgery. i wore a boot to prom and graduation. it didn’t heal right and i still have a little bit of a limp. the most i got from him was a ‘Sorry’ text. now when we interact i always have that in the back of my mind and i don’t think it’s ever going away. i’ll be 19 soon and i still have that image of 17 year old me stuck on the bathroom floor just wanting to give up completely. we laugh but i still think about the color of my ankle. i have never told anyone about the 2 hours i spent on the floor. he was already shit and abused the shit out of me and my mom but this was the tipping point for me.