King 👑

Chapter 09

Avery's POV

I woke up with a pounding headache and a churning stomach, my mind foggy from the alcohol.

My hair was disheveled, and a tie was tied to my arm_a haunting reminder of the previous night's events.

Blood stains marred my skin, and my arms throbbed with pain.Memories of yesterday's ordeal flooded back, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me.

I sighed heavily, feeling uneasy and vulnerable, and rested against the sink. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I thought about my boss saving my life.

After freshening up and dressing my wounds, I washed and ironed the tie, trying to erase the evidence of the night's events.

But the memories lingered, taunting me.

A knock at the door broke my thoughts, and Jessie entered, her face etched with worry.

"Where were you last night?" she asked, her voice trembling. "You missed curfew, and Mom was furious. She told Dad."

I felt a chill run down my spine. "What?! Why didn't you cover for me?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Later, you came home drunk and wasted," Jessie continued, her eyes welling up with tears.

"Dad's really mad. Is Dad here?" I asked, my insides shaking with fear.

"Yes, and he saw you coming home totally wasted." Jessie's voice cracked.

"Come down for breakfast; everyone's waiting."

I followed her silently, feeling piercing gazes as I walked downstairs. The air was thick with tension.

At breakfast, the silence was oppressive, heavy with unspoken accusations.

"Where were you last night?" Dad's cold tone cut through, his eyes blazing with anger.

"I had a team dinner to celebrate my new position," I replied bluntly, trying to sound confident.

"Who drove you home?" Dad asked, his face emotionless.

"My boss."

Dad slammed his plate, causing a loud clatter. "How dare you get drunk, miss curfew.

And mess around with boys?!" His anger boiled over, and he lunged at me.

"You're my daughter, not some village tramp!" He seized my neck, squeezing hard, his fingers digging into my skin.

I pushed his hands away, screaming, "Stop, Dad! I'm not a child!" But he wouldn't let go.

"You shameful bitch! How dare you!" He slapped me, sending me tumbling to the floor.

My cheek throbbed, and tears streamed down my face.

This was no surprise; Dad had always been cruel, controlling, and abusive. The physical pain was nothing new, but the emotional toll was suffocating.

I remembered the countless times he'd belittled me, called me worthless, and made me feel like I was nothing.

The times he'd locked me in my room, denying me food or water for days. The times he'd made me feel like I was to blame for his anger.

I fled to my bedroom, locked the door, and wept until everything went black.

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