「 𝘽𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙎𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙨」

Chapter 2 - Bandaged Knuckles

(Edited, 3,255 words) Adylene's POV:

*TW: Physical Abuse; proceed with caution*

"Where you been, brat?" My dad's words were slurred together, and a stench of alcohol surrounded him.

I was trembling before him, but I tried to not let him see; I didn't want him to see his own daughter being weak.

He's still sitting in the seat I had left him in when I went to the gym, but now there were several empty beer bottles left on the table that weren't there before. Shards of glass are scattered on the linoleum floor, and I vaguely think that he must've smashed his dinner plate somehow. I was glad I was wearing shoes as the glass crunched under my feet.

"At the gym," Before my dad could say something, I opened my mouth and added, "Sir."

"You shoulda been home an hour ago. You have a curfew, you know!" My dad raised his voice as his anger controlled him and he stood up abruptly, knocking his chair back onto the ground.

"I know, I'm sorry, father." I answered, looking down at the floor but he shouts loudly and I jump.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, b****!" Harshly grabbing my face, my father jerks my head forward and upward making me stumble, hand having to catch myself before I fell forward. He grips my chin even tighter when I instinctively flinch harshly away from him.

"I'm s-sorry," I cleared my throat, and took a deep breath "Why don't I get you a drink, father?" My dad's shoulders visibly untensed and he nodded, he lets got of my face and it feels like I can breathe again. I slowly picked up the seat that he knocked down and pulled it out so that he could sit in it.

"Whiskey, on ice." He orders.

"Yes, sir." I watched as my dad stumbled forward into the chair and sat down. When I knew he was facing the opposite direction that I was in, I took out a glass and poured ice and a bit of beer in the glass before filling up two thirds of the glass with water. I hoped that looked close enough to whiskey. It was clear my father was already very drunk, and he needed to sober down and mixing alcohols was never good. Plus, I didn't think he would be able to tell I watered it down, with him being so intoxicated. "Here you go, father."

My dad took the glass from my hands and gulped some of it down before his face turned up. His expression held anger and I took a step away from him before he even started speaking,  "This isn't whiskey! What did you do to it??" My dad's rage came down on me unhindered, and I stared into his face with fear of what he would do. I didn't answer, and he repeated his question. "What did you do!?" He shouted.

"I-I just put water in, in it." I answered shakily.

My father swiped his hand against the many beer bottles on the table and sent them crashing down to the floor. His eyes were ablaze, "What?" Even though it was technically a question it didn't sound much like he was asking. "Do you think you know better than me, girl? Huh?" The undertone of his voice was filled with anger, and he stalked towards me slowly. I was terrified, for every step that he took towards me, I took one backwards.

All of the sudden my dad pushed me back harshly.
I jumped from his abrupt and violent movement and my back slammed against the fridge. His nostrils were flared, and I tried to stumble forward to look my father in the eyes but he only stalked closer to me, and rammed his fist into my stomach.

My back connected with the fridge painfully again and I let out a cry in surprise and gasped. Bringing my hands to wrap around my stomach, and suddenly losing my balance I fell to the floor. The beer bottle glass shards cut into my arm. I groaned and my hands reached out to search for anything to grab onto to ground myself.