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Chapter Five-Unexpected Surprise

*Three Nights Later*

"Ragazza meglio aver terminato il vostro lavoro o giuro su Dio che sto per battere la merda dal vivo fuori di voi! ( Girl you better have finished your homework or I swear to god I am going to beat the live shit out of you!)" I jump from my stuper and look down at the sheet of finished math equations.

" Sì papà, ho terminato il foglio di compiti a casa ... ( Yes papa, I have finished the sheet of homework...)" I shove the page into my bag before dashing down the stairs and walking into the soggiorno (living room) to see my dad on the couch with a woman on his lap, her breasts showing. " Padre! Si contaminate memoria madri con some..some sporco .. cencioso .. disgustosa ... brutto .. PUTTANA? ( Father! You defile mothers' memory with some..some filthy .. ragged .. disgusting ... nasty .. WHORE?)"

I take a step back, my eyes wide as he shoves the puttana (whore) off of him and stands from the couch. " Uscire la signorina Luise, devo parlare con mia figlia .. ( Get out of her Miss Luise, I have to speak with my daughter..)" The puttana pulls her skimpy dress over her buldging breasts and scowls at me,
" Stupida ragazza, pensando di sapere delle azioni del vostro io e l'uomo che amo ... I sputare su di voi, ( You stupid girl, thinking you know of the doings of I and the man I love...i spit on you,)" she spits in my direction as she passes me.

My father stands silently, starring at me with cold heartless eyes, the warmth I glimpses while he was with the puttana is now gone. " Lilli, che ti credi di essere! L'interruzione me..and allevare i vostri morti mother..my sposa morta? È egoista testa di cazzo! ( Lilli, who do you think you are! Disrupting me..and bringing up your dead mother..my dead bride? You selfish shithead!)"

He steps forward and takes hold of my still injured wrist, twisting it as he pulls my face close to his, I an smell the alcohol on his breath, and I then know that what ever was going to happen, I couldn't stop it.

My head drops as a tear slides down my cheek. " Spiacente Padre .... (Sorry Father ....)" In response to her apology he throws her against the glass coffee table, it shadders on impact.

I cry out once I look down at the pool of blood slowly growing from a wound protruding with a sharp and wide shard of glass.