➖Bad Boy's Game ➖ Completed

C H A P T E R ONE

"I told you already! I haven't got any more! Leave me alone, please!" I struggled as my father gripped hold of my hair, making sure i couldn't go anywhere.
He came back for the fourth time this week, drunk out of his mind.

"You whore! Just like your mum! You steal my money then expect me to let you live here, in my house?!!  I want my money, where is it now?!" He shook me until my head hurt. I sobbed hard but it was no use,

"I have no more money to give you, I gave you the last of what I was given on Wednesday," I hiccuped and struggled to find the words I was drowning in sobs. He threw me with all his upper strength against the wall, then spat at me with disgust.
"Damn b*tch! Die!!" He screamed then slammed the front door of the house. I was left on the damp floor of our flat.
I lay there crying hysterically.

I was now living in a broken down flat with my dad. The ceiling is rotting away, the floor is damp and now let's off a horrid smell, there are three rooms. One is the kitchen, it's just plain mouldy and the sight of it would make you want to gag. The other is my bedroom, a space that's identical to a broom cupboard and my dad sleeps in the living room. We have to use the public bathroom, everyone living here does. And it's ten times worse.

My mum walked out on us a few years ago, to live with her boyfriend, Charlie. Dad wouldn't let her take me, I don't think she cared anyway. But ever since, dads been coming home drunk, drugged, loopy, you name it. He lashes out on the first thing he sees and it's always me. I collected a few bruises and scars from him over the years, the worst one is a glass cut on my arm, got that when he tried to stab me with his smashed beer bottle. Crazy, I know but, I can't intervene in any way can I?

I got up and wiped my cheek with the sleeve of my grey hoodie, it was my dads baseball one he never wore anymore, and limped to my room.

I tried to my make my bedroom as lively as I could by crafting things myself from rubbish I found around the building and mums stuff she left behind.
I slept on a mattress on the floor, it was a little dirty but I layered all old clothes underneath as a cover. I had a small drawer my dad got from a skip, he painted it for me years ago in a lilac colour and even fixed it, he used to work as a builder. I placed my frame, my necklace and brackets and mums Aztec trinket box on top to make it look decorative. My clothes were kept on a silver trolley rack from a  second hand shop, each on a hanger or just resting over it, so we didn't need to iron it and Waste electricity. The last thing I could fit was near my door. On my way home from school I found a low brown coffee table. I took it home and wiped it down myself many times and used dads sandpaper to smooth it down. I turned it into a little den by sewing all mums clothes she left into a quilt and draping it over and then inserting fairy lights inside. It was big enough to fit inside and cosy up in. Especially when I felt scared or alone, which was most the time.

I huddled up inside and gripped my legs close to my chest. I reached and pulled down the fabric to cover the front. I leaned my head against the wall at the back and watched as the old lights now flickered, their power going out almost. Who knows how long dad might take to come home now....