Living With The Gangleader ✓

one

F L O ' S   P O V

I saw glass beer bottles scattered everywhere from the living room to the kitchen. I rolled my eyes, this is what he always does. Comes home from work, drinks his lonely, depressing life away then passes out.  I walked slowly into the kitchen and there was my father passed out face down on the kitchen tiled floor.

I exhaled shakily and tried to step over him to reach the fridge without stepping on him or else he would awaken-- obviously. Wouldn't you wake up if some idiot crushed your arm with their foot? Yes? That's what I thought. Sadly because I was having an internal argument with myself I forgot what I was doing and stood on my dad's arm.

'Good one Flo!' My conscience yelled at me.

"Oh no." I whispered to myself then before I knew it the floor didn't seem so far away considering my face came in contact with it. I sat up and rubbed my head with my hand.

"Hello? Bitch!? Are you fucking ignoring me!" He smacked me in the back of the head snapping me out of it.

I shook my head quickly "N-no of course n-not." I stuttered.

He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me off the ground and instantly his fist came into contact with my face. A surge of pain stung through my jaw.

"Make me dinner now you brat!" He yelled at me causing me to flinch.

I nodded and began walking to the pantry but was stopped in my tracks when my dad once again stopped me by grabbing my upperarm.

He slammed me into the wall and put his hands around my neck chocking me, lifting me so my feet couldn't touch the tiled floor. It was easy for him to do so considering I'm only 5'5 and he's a freaking giant.

"Use your words bitch!" He yelled closely to my face, his alcohol stained breath hitting my senses.

"Yes, I will make your dinner now." I spoke, gagging in between words trying to get my breath back. He released his hands from around my neck causing me to fall to the ground.

I held my neck , gasping for lost air, shaken by the fact my dad just choked me; What surprises me more is that I'm still not used to it considering it happens almost daily.

I got up from the floor and started looking through the fridge and pantry. I stumbled upon steak and chips, I chucked the chips into the oven and then started cooking the steak.

After around half an hour I was done and served dad his food, he looked at me with an unhappy, disgusted look.

"Where's the fucking sauce bitch!" He yelled slapping me with his big hand.

"Go get me the fucking steak sauce!" He yelled, I quickly ran into the kitchen to get the sauce and ran back before he could get any more angrier, if that's even possible.

"Is t-there anything e-else I-I can get y-you?" I stuttered as he snatched the sauce out of my hands.

"No! Go to your room I don't wanna see your ugly excuse of a body." He snapped.

I ran upstairs to my room as fast as I can knowing he will try and hit me again if I'm not fast enough to get out of his sight. I shut the old wooden door behind me and lay in my old single bed. The sheets are old and there are a few small rips along them, some of the bigger rips I had to stitch up myself.

I look around me there's an old wooden closet, that has a few clothes in it, there's also a wooden desk that has my bag and books I need for school. School, I don't even want to think about it right now but I would rather be there then at home if I'm being honest.

"Hopefully tomorrow will be better." I whisper to myself, looking up at the ceiling and slowly shutting my eyes letting the darkness consume me.