Fragile(NOT COMPLETED, UNDER REVISION, PLZ DONT READ RN)

Chapter 8

    He keeps on pushing and pushing but the door doesn't budge. At least not yet it doesn't.

"Ah! Fuck!" I hear him cry out.

    The door stops rattling and I drop to the tiled floor. I peep through the open space to see him sitting against the floor cradling his shoulder. It was bleeding. The wood must have fallen off a bit and scraped him.

    A sigh escapes my mouth. Tonight must be one of my lucky nights. His rage didn't last that long, and he gave up so quickly. Maybe it's because I kicked him in the knee. He's getting older, and his bones are getting weaker. Especially in his legs.

    I sigh again, but its more relaxed this time. I run my hands over my face again, disgusted by the blood still running. Twisting the faucet on, I cup water into my hands, washing off the blood. After drying, I inspected the cut. It was an average sized cut, running from the top of my forehead the left end side. Slanted.

"Well." I huff out. "No way Im leaving this room tonight." Not with my dad still outside.

    I bend down and grab an extra towel from the cabinet, spreading it out on the floor. Looks like Im sleeping in here tonight.

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    Im currently sitting in a chair downstairs in the kitchen, swirling my spoon around in the bowl of milk. After last night things went back to the way things always are. Just like they normally do. After waking up on the tiled floor, I immediately took a shower and brushed my teeth. I washed my hair too.

    When I walked downstairs after changing into a pair of loose blue jeans and a grey sweatshirt, I found my dad in the kitchen eating cereal. He ignored me flat out, just like he always does in the mornings. The only attention I get from him is during beatings. Then, just before he left for work, he adjusted his tie, his cuff links, and slapped a hundred dollar bill on the counter right in front of me. It startled me to say the least.

    I didn't look up to acknowledge him, I heard him grumble about groceries because apparently "we have nothing in this house."

    So now here I am, leaning back against the wooden chair, my cereal bowl pushed out in front of me, as I write a list of things to get at the store. When Im done I slip off the chair and head up to my room to grab a pair of shoes.

    Once my converse are on, I push open the front door leaning halfway out to test out the weather. Do I really need a jacket? But this sweatshirt is already so thick. I decide against the jacket and slip out the house with the money and list in my front pocket. It takes me a good fifteen minute walk to get to Shoppers World. There are few cars in the parking lot, but it is still early. Maybe eight thirty in the morning. On a Saturday.

    I walk through the automatic doors and instantly the cold air envelopes me and hits my ankles. I grab a cart and start pushing it around the store.

    After grabbing the easiest items and placing them in the cart I move on to the harder ones. More specifically, the items placed on high shelfs where I can't reach. Most of the time Im stuck and just end up not getting what I need to because I don't want to ask workers for help.

    The Shoppers World near us was pretty large and you could easily lose children. I mean, really lose children. Most of what I see when I come is Moms running around, abandoning their carts and baskets because they lost their children. Today most of what Ive seen is mainly old people, cranky workers, and few middle aged and young people.