He was at it again. Coming home reeking of alcohol, trying to find something I did wrong as an excuse to hit me. This time though, I wasn't scared, because I knew he wouldn't find anything, and hit me anyway. What really scared me, was what happened at the end. Saying sorry, how he loved me, would never hurt me again, then slowly undress me to please himself. A father wouldn't do that, if he truly loved me, he wouldn't tell me I was beautiful, just like my sister, while covering my mouth with his hand, so he can push inside of me without me screaming. I never knew why this scared me the most, it's happened so many times before, but I always trembled, always cried, always prayed to something that wasn't there, but daddy wouldn't stop, not until he was done, and leave me there, naked, exposed, right in the middle of the living room. Then go to drink more, till he passed out, to give me time to clean up everything, in time to finish homework, and make breakfast for him in the morning, and let me not forget to check how many bruises are going to be covered in makeup tomorrow.