One of the Boys

Leave.

Chapter Twenty Three  

Leave

      There is no meassurement for the repulssion Leila felt as her father wrapped her arms around her body. After the phonecall, in which he had slurred out for her to meet them at home, Leila had obeyed. She hadn't really took in account the amount of alcohol in his father's system, which was a lot.

      He smelled of Johnny Walker, cigarettes, and maybe even weed. He was disgusting. He was wearing a suit, without the blazer of course. His shirt was open until the middle, chest hair flodding out of it. The white was stained with various colors, too. His pants were wrinkled, and there was no sign of his shoes anywere.

      "Oh, my baby." He slurred as he hugged Leila's waist. Leila felt terrible. She noticed the hint of cheap perfume in his scent, and the glitter scattered behind his ears and tucked into his dirty beard. "I have missed you so much." He said, not letting go. Leila shuddered. "Are you cold?" He asked, pulling away, blowing a cloud of alcohol tainted air into her nose.

      She made an effort not to gag.

      Instead she faked a smile. "No. Let's go inside?" She said, moving out of the way, hoping Carter was home. Let him be home, please God let him be home. "However, what'cha want, darling." He slurred, chuckling at nothing in particular.

      Leila twisted the knob of the door and laughed nervously and loudly. "What are you wearing?" Her father slurred out. She looked down at her outfit. Skinny jeans, black heels, a tank top. Her regular out fit up until now. "I changed my look." Leila shrugged non-challantly.

      "To what, a slut?" Her father slurred. "You are too pretty to be dressing like this." Her father said, hugging her again. Leila felt so... Wrong. It wasn't your typical I-love-you-cause-i'm-your-dad hug, no. It made her feel so drity. The way his hands roamed over her back, and the sides of her waist. The way he squeezed near her rib cage.

      She winced. "Dad, let me go." She croaked out as he pressed a hand over her butt. "Relax, Mathilda." His dad murmured into her neck as she squirmed out of his grasp. "Stand still!" He yelled, pushing her, making her collide with the wall.

      Leila winced at the contact. "Why did you have to die!" Her father yelled, slapping her cheek. Leila winced in pain as she felt her lip being cut open by the force of the slap. Her cheek stung so bad. "Dad!" She yelled, trying to push away from him as he slid his hand under the hem of her shirt.

      "Dad!" She yelled again, to no avail of course. Her dad hit her arm hardly, then her waist, and yelled, "Stand stll, Mathilda!" Leila tried to kick his sheen. "My name is not Mathilda! I'm your daughter! Not your wife! She's dead, dad! I'm your-" Mid yell, a hand collided against the middle of her stomach, knocking the air out of her. She gasped.

      Her dad seemed to react, for a few seconds, until his pupils dilated, and he just went on. He placed a hand to her kneck, choking her, and another one trying to unbutton her jeans. Leila screamed. "Leave me alone!" She screamed, her voice coming out strained.

      She started feeling lightheaded from the lack of blood getting to her brain. "Stand," He said, punching her ribs. "Still!" He punched that spot again, and Leila tasted blood in her throat.

      The sting was too much. Her knees weakened as he pulled her pants down. She screamed and kicked, her heels clicking in the floor. The sound of his belt being undone was heard. "I like them fresh, Mathilda." He said, staring at Leila with such hatred in his eyes.

      Leila's eyes started closing. Let me die before this happens... She thought, her heart hurting. The sound of her dad's pants slumping against the floor was heard, and then he chuckled. "Oh, Mathilda..." Her dad's voice was filled with sorrow now, tears rolled down his cheeks. "Why did you have to leave me?" He said, pulling his underwear down.