"Fine then. Now make me supper I'm tired of looking at you." He said harshly
I walked into the small cluttered kitchen, turned on the stove and began boiling water. I kept my movements slow. I looked away as his eyes observed every movement, waiting for me to make the slightest slip up. I was shaking now, knowing he was in one of those moods.
I backed away from his vision, trying to escape the deathly glares. I took a step too far back causing the pot of boiling water to crash to the floor, spilling some of it’s contents on my leg. I let out a yelp in pain. I rushed to the sink trying to find a towel to try and clean up my mistake.
I was too late though. I’d been caught in the act trying to cover-up.
“You filthy, dirty, worthless child!” He screamed at me as I balled up on the floor
“I’m so sorry, i-it w-w-w-a-s an accident.” I pleaded
“There are no accidents, only bad choices!”
I was frightened of those words. Only bad thoughts and memories went along with those words. At an attempt to save myself I began the short sprint to the stairs. Making it barely to the first step I was thrown against the ground. There was no point in fighting anymore. He had got me now. Now I had to accept my punishment.
“Maybe I should give you a ten second head start.” He teased
“It’s fine, just do it.” I quietly returned, knowing that a head start or running would just get me into more trouble.
Frightened you I began sprinting up the stairs. He caught me at the ankle pulling me back down, hitting the dust-covered hardwood floors. My head had began to bleed, but I had lost feeling so the pain hadn’t kicked in yet. I made it to my feet dizzily and a bit nauseous. My instinct was to hit back. I knew that was useless though. So I fell back to my feet and cried.
“You’re just like your mother” He screamed into my ear that he’d dragged to his lips. “A sad useless,worthless piece of trash.”
I couldn’t hold in the weeps any longer and revealed my weakness to my so-called father. He ate it up laughing at my vulnerability.
“Lemme see that pretty face.” He whined sarcastically, obviously he’d been drinking.
I turned to show him my swollen lip and red stained, tired eyes. He returned with a face of disgust. My father was ashamed of the I looked. I know because he told me every day.
“Wait I forgot, you didn’t get your looks from your mom did ya now.” My father smirked
I looked up disgusted that he would even dare to say her name. He noticed this look of threat and decided it was unacceptable. My father practically lunged at me, grabbed my throat and began gripping it tighter
Until the little consciousness I had faded.
I woke up in my bed, crust-filled eyes prevented me from seeing clearly, I made out a figure sitting on my bed. It was Thomas, my father.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was your mothers day.” He said frustrated
He rolled his eyes at my stupidity and pulled me out of bed. Instantly I collapsed to the ground as the agonizing pain shot through me at a constant flow. My head was throbbing and I was unbalanced, I glanced down at my leg to see the baseball sized bruise right below my knee. It felt broken, but knew there was nothing I could do about it, but wait for the pain to subside.