“Shut up.” The man horridly ground the two words together.
She continued, unable to restrain the flood of resentment for once. “You dare complain when you have done nothing to-”
“Shut. The Fuck. Up.” His voice turned ugly.
She refused to see the last of warning. “You have made us live hell with you-”
“Shut.. Up. Shut... Up. Shut U…p.!”
Everything went quiet as a cold grave.
A foreboding enveloped Sarah. Her eyes tried to spear through the darkness. She took a step forward, but the long instilled fear shortly locked her feet again. An icy dread began freezing her inside out. She prayed the sanctuary of her closet remained forever.
But it was not the day for her asking.
The door flung open. Stark brightness infiltrated, and along with it, a nefarious hand.
Dragged out and shoved hard to the floor when Sarah’s sight adjusted to the light, a harrowing shriek tore from her.
Pool of blood, everywhere blood, and in the middle of this gory sea lay her mother’s body, cold and lifeless.
Sarah seemed unable to stop screaming. This was the day of her sixteenth birthday. An ironic, bitter initiation to an age vastly believed sweet. The man, who had bestowed this gruesome, cruel gift upon her, had been her own inveterate drunkard of a father.