Paper Butterflies

Chapter One

I paced back and forth as I watched the time on the alarm clock. The old device was fading with old lights that blinked repeatedly trying to stay on. My mind raced with different scenarios that would take place when he comes home.

I did something awful yesterday, if he notices I’m sure to be sore in the morning with purple skin.

               The front door opened and slammed shut, signaling that my father was home. Panicking I froze in place. With fear making my heart pump faster I went over my mental checklist of things I needed to have done today.

Clean kitchen. Check.

Scrub floors. Check.

Clean bathrooms. Check.

Dishes. Check.

Laundry. Check.

Cook dinner. Che-

               Oh, no. I forgot dinner. Oh, god. OH, GOD.

I panicked; more scenarios of how my father would punish me ran through my thoughts. The pain from last nights’ beating was just starting to fade away.

“Ashton! You worthless piece of trash!” I jumped slightly before walking out of my room. Slowly I made my way towards the kitchen where my father stood angrily. His eyes set with the usual look of hatred. Not daring to look directly at his eyes I looked down at my feet.

               “I-I-m sorry, I f-forgot to make din-” I let out a yelp as my head snapped to the side, my cheek burning.

“Did I say you could talk? I expect for you to do what you’re told. Got that?” He questioned. I simply nodded.

               He grabbed hold of my neck, cutting off any oxygen in my lungs. With ease he lifted my frail body off the ground. I struggled under his grip, desperately trying to breath. “Answer me!” He shouted. Tears sprung in my eyes as I opened my mouth to speak, but only wheezes came out.

               Glaring, my father threw me to the ground. “Cook. Now.” He said before walking away, but he stopped to turn around. “And don’t even think about wasting my food on your stomach.” As he disappeared into his room I let out a sigh of relief, though the relief was short lived because I knew that if I didn’t make him dinner quick enough I’ll be sure to have broken ribs in the morning.

               As I finished with dinner I set a plate on the table just in time for my father to walk in. Quickly, I stood aside to be ready when he asked me for something. I watched as I my father stuffed his face with pork and potatoes. My stomach growled in desperate need for food. The tastes I had missed so much, I can barely remember the food I had two weeks ago. I inhaled the smell like it was smoke. Again my stomach roared.

My eyes widened as they darted to my father who smiled sadistically.

“Hungry are we?” He asked.

               With the same sadistic smile he stood up, walking towards me. My back was against the wall behind me by the time my father stood in front of me. “I can fix that.” He said as he grabbed a fistful of my hair. My head was pulled down awkwardly making my neck bend painfully. I cringed when I saw my fathers’ free hand make a fist. He pulled back his arm before jamming his hand into my stomach. I yelped out in pain. It was short as I had learned to control my screams over time. Again his fist rammed my stomach leaving me winded. I wheezed and coughed before being thrown to the floor.

A laugh erupted from above followed by snickering.

               My father walked away, leaving me on the floor, but not before locking the cabinets and even the fridge. The one thing I knew was that he was right about the trick he had taught me years ago. His fix for a hungry stomach.