Smarter Than My Senior

Chapter 11

Ellinor's POV:

I woke up that Saturday morning in a cold sweat, my nightmares still running rampantly through my mind. Sleep had been as elusive as usual, but I was still surprised when I realized that my father was the one who had woken me up; usually he woke up long after I did.

"Ellinor, are you in there? Wake up! UP!" Knock knock. "GET UP!"

"Coming!" I yelled and groaned as I rolled out of bed.

"You'd better have breakfast ready soon! It's already 9 o'clock!"

I startled at that and glanced at my clock to confirm his words. I hadn't slept that late in a long time. That meant I almost got 5 hours of solid sleep last night. It hadn't felt that long at all.

Eventually, I was suitably morning ready and I yawned as I exited my room to make breakfast. I found my father in the kitchen, arms across his chest, his wheelchair already seated at the table. His expression was far from pleasant.

"Good morning," I said tiredly.

He scowled at me. "What's wrong with you? There should already be breakfast on this table in front of me. Is there breakfast in front of me? Do you see any breakfast!?"

I shook my head, sensing he was already going into an unstoppable rage and trying to curb it to the best of my ability.

"I didn't hear you! WHERE IS MY BREAKFAST? IS IT HERE!" He mockingly lifted up a stray napkin on the table, checking underneath for his breakfast. "I DON'T SEE MY BREAKFAST!"

"What would you like to eat," I asked as pleasantly as I could muster.

"What do I usually have on Saturdays?" He growled, backing away from the table.

I realized my mistake as he started pushing himself towards me. Of course. He always wanted pancakes on Saturday, a fact he'd pounded into me before. I took an unconscious step backward. He was going to pound that fact back into my skull today as well.

"Come here," he paused to gesture at me and continued pushing towards me.

Unfortunately for me, the kitchen was designed so that I was stuck and couldn't get away from him unless I climbed over the counter filled with crockery and knives. I briefly thought of yielding a knife, but I couldn't have done that even in threat. He was still my father and things weren't all that bad...

However, I still attempted to climb over the counter. My father was quicker though, and he grabbed my leg and pulled me down as I tried to skirt the knives.

"Where are you going, you brat! Where is my food?!?"

He gripped my arm hard enough I thought it might bruise, and yanked me down over his lap. I struggled, but his arms were too strong and he held me tight as he gave me a good old fashioned spanking.

I bit my lip and bore it. Over all, a spanking wasn't so bad; it didn't hurt all that much compared to other forms of punishment and it didn't generally leave a long painful reminder for days after either. Hopefully my dad would be sufficiently satiated with this punishment and let me make the breakfast he so desired.

"I'm sorry dad," I said.

He stopped spanking me and pushed me off down towards he feet.

"You should be," he said, and before I could pull out of the way, he turned his wheelchair to get out of the kitchen, deliberately running over my hand in the process. I hissed and grabbed my hand towards myself, wiggling my fingers. It would be fine in a few minutes since my dad wasn't all that heavy, but it sure hurt right then.