Pic of charlottes grandmothers cat and her pet pomsky
it was hard going up the ladder with a rambunctious dog. i finally just put him in my shirt after a couple tries. once i got to my room i let him loose. he just ran around and barked at the cat. i just laughed at how enthusiastic he was. i pute down my bags on my bed and went back down the latter to cook dinner. once i got to the kitchen i saw my dad outside the window looking at my car in disbelief. he had his mouth open and was rubbing his bald head. it actually made me chuckle a little bit. he looked down at his wrist and walked back to his car. my dad is so predictable. he always did the same thing on his work days. go to work from 8 till 4, come home to change clothes and make sure i was home, go to bar till 6, come home and eat dinner, have more beers, then go to bed after slight screams and beating me. on the weekend though it was always different. he never had a schedule. those days were the days that i hated the most. he would non stop hit me or worse. i brought out a pot to make some spaghetti. i started the pan for a boil and walked off. i saw my neighbor walk towards the house. he stopped dead in his tracks and looked at the house. then he got the craziest sensation to walk up to my house.
knock knock, the sound of his fist slowly hitting the door.
silence
"look i know your in there. i saw the cameras outside and i saw the bruise on your torso today when you were putting your trunk down. i want to know what happened to you." he said with a firm voice but also with sympathy.
i looked out the peep hole but didn't dare say a thing.
"fine if you wont tell me then i guess i will find out myself" he said storming off while loosing the small sympathy he had before.
i opened the door a crack and saw a note he had left on the porch. i grabbed it quickly and shut the door. i was afraid of what it said but my curiosity was even bigger.
i will tap on your door later tonight when the lights are off.
god this boy just wont take a hint. then i remembered i had a pot of boiling water in the kitchen.
"shit shit shit', i said as i ran to the pot. i quickly blew on it so the bubbles would go down and i added a handle full of spaghetti.
YOU ARE READING
My abuser
Non-FictionIn the world that we live in now you get hurt. If anything one of your neighbors could be crying or getting hit at this very second. For me that's every second of my life. With the mysterious disappearance of my mother and horrible sickness of my gr...
