“Dad, I swear, I didn’t touch any of your cigarettes,” I said, backing up into the wall.
“Then explain to me why half of the pack is missing!” he screamed in my face.
“I-I don’t know.”
“Tell me the D*MN TRUTH!” his fist collided with my cheek, causing me to collapse to the ground.
“Please, stop, I didn’t do anything…” I begged, I don’t deserve any of this, I didn’t touch anything of his.
He does this every week, he always finds a way to hurt me, ever since my mom left him, he’s been against me, he never leaves me alone, he drinks every night, I always have to clean the house, make breakfast, and all of the other stuff he should be doing, but nooo, I’m the one who cares for him, even though he does nothing but hurt me all the dang time.
I was snapped out of my thoughts when he came out of the kitchen with a knife. “P-please Richard, stop…”
He grabbed my arms and cut three, deep lines across my wrists. I screamed as the pain hit me like a ton a bricks, watching the deep red liquid slide down and hit the ground.
“SHUT UP! We wouldn’t want to wake to neighbors now would we?” He sounded sick, just pure freaking evil. Once he was done, he threw me on the ground, “You’re worthless…” he said, leaving the apartment.