I'm in Love....With My Teacher?

Part 6

 Cara's POV

I stomped home in the rain, crying once again. I was scared to arrive at the estate, scared of the fact that dad would be there waiting, waiting for me. I started trudging through puddles, anything to slow down my steps. I looked down at the mud seeping into the holes on the soles of my footwear and sighed. That's another excuse for dad to beat me. I opened the gate and walked up the steep steps leading to the top floor of the balcony, I could hear music from inside the flat which obviously meant that dad was there. I stood infront of the half broken front door and took three deep breathes before turning the key in my hand and stepping inside, closing it behind me. I nearly tripped over a bottle of whisky dumped on the floor, half empty. I soon realized dad was drinking again and started to worry, I'd been gone all day and the school would've phoned. I had to keep him sweet, which was actually very hard. I took off my shoes and hid them behind the cupboard, then I went into the living room and sat down opposite the broken television. Dad wasn't there but I heard noises from the kitchen. Then dad came in. There were scars on his arms and legs, and he looked irate. 'D..Dad.' I whispered shakily, wanting mum back. He glared at me and picked up the whisky bottle on the floor, breaking it against the dining  table. I stared in horror at the sharp ends of the lime green glass in his hands. I held my hands in front of me to protect myself. As he walked towards me, I knew what was coming.

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'HELP ME!' I screamed over and over. 'HELP ME!' I fell to the ground and cried for minutes on end. A few seconds later I felt dad spit on me and walk towards the door, going out and slamming it behind him, leaving the two halves of whisky glass on the dust filled carpet. There were scars all across my body where he had hit me, shards of glass stuck inside my hands and fingers, with blood seeping from the edges. I stood up and stared in the mirror, I looked like something of a horror film. Endless cuts filled my body and my face, clumps of hair led next to me on the floor and my ankle was bent at a funny angle. Dad had beat me hard before, but never like this. I didn't think he had it him, but it shows what I know.