Depressing One Shots

House not Home

I opened the door quietly, hoping not to disturb Reuben.

It creaked slightly and I winced. I tried to tiptoe in but I ended up kicking an empty, broken beer bottle. There was many of them scattered all over floor and poker cards too.

I set the grocery bags on the counter and silently unpacked the ingredients for dinner. But I cut my hand on a loose piece of metal and cried out in pain.

I heard his stomping footsteps coming from his room and I ran.

I ran to my room and my fingers fumbled as I tried to lock the door.

He pushed it open before I could get it locked and I tried to get away from his massive intimidating hands one of which was holding a beer bottle.

He hit the bottle across the side of my face, breaking the bottle and cutting me very badly. Then he quickly undid his belt and I whimpered.

I turned to cover my head and smush my face into the bed. The first lash is always the worst because you know that he's just getting started. Another and another. My tears were spilling onto my sheets, but I didn't dare make a sound.

When he was done he left the room and I went to the closet for my first aid supplies, but I had to hurry because Alex would be getting home soon. I didn't want him to know that Reuben was hurting me, because Reuben was the reason we had a roof over our heads. The reason I could put food on the table every night. The reason that Alex had something other than rags to wear to school. He was our source of income.

I just kept remembering that this dump was our house not our home.