Another bear like hit from my oh so loving father, this one so forceful it made my neck pop.
“What did I tell you girl! What did I tell you!” he bellows at me, about a millimetre away from my nose, his spit moistening my face. “What did I tell you! Answer me girl!”, I can smell the alcohol on his breath, smells like engine coolant. I try and explain myself,
“I….I…” but he doesn’t let me finish.
“I what girl! Stop stuttering and spit it out!”, how can he be so awful, and to his own flesh and blood.
“You…you told me never to…to come back after the time you said” I manage to get it out.
“Right! So you clearly understand my instructions, and yet you still came back late. You always come back late. So that must mean one thing then: you must be thick” he states factually.
“I am not thick” I abruptly blurt out, given the situation I am currently in that was a very brave move.
“What?! Did you just backchat me girl? DID YOU JUST BACKCHAT ME GIRL!”. I knew I shouldn’t have said that, I knew if I did then something bad would happen, but I just couldn’t help it, it just came out. I try and make it better:
“I didn’t mean it like that, I just…” I am cut short by another one of my fathers famous slaps, this one almost puts my lights out. I manage to stay conscious, just about. I stare down at the floor as blood trickles from my left ear, that can’t be good. That ringing you get in your ears after a concert now muffling my fathers screams, he is still in full shout mode. I manage to lift my head to see my mother sat behind my dad, hunched over a very neat line of cocaine, pristinely laid out on her favourite mirror (it had flowers around the edge). She slumps back after inhaling it all, looks at me with her hazy eyes and starts laughing. I twist my head back to my screaming father just in time to see him lift his right hand again, primed for another knockout blow. I hear him spit one last thing at me before I lose consciousness;
“God damn you Dante”; THWACK!