Can You Keep A Secret?

Can You Keep A Secret? [3]

Slowly, I stepped through my front door. My heart was racing, but I knew I had to keep calm. It's not like this never happened. I had to live with him. But still... I guess this was something you never got used to. I heard a loud crash and the sound of shattering glass from the kitchen. I flinched, hoping Dad would just take his aggression and frustration out on our dishes as opposed to my face or my body. I closed the front door gently, praying he wouldn't hear me. I crept up the stairs hoping to get to my room before he noticed I was home. Suddenly, the noise from the kitchen ceased. I froze halfway up the stairs. Please, please, please God don't let him come in here. I waited, slightly shaking, for something to happen. Unfortunately, something did. Something always did. My Dad rounded the corner angrily, but stopped when he saw me.

"Well, well," he said darkly. "Look who's arrived. And hours early I might add."

He walked slowly towards me, but stopped at the railing of the stairs, looking up at me.

"What the hell are you doing here, you little bitch?!" he suddenly screamed, his face a mask of rage.

I learned not to hesitate when being asked a question. Hesitation led to punishment.

"They let everyone leave early because someone set off multiple stink bombs in the hallway." I answered immediately.

That was kind of lame... But better than some of the other excuses that could have come out. I waited for him to start screaming at me for no reason. I didn't have to wait long. He started spouting off things at the top of his lungs. As usual I couldn't understand what he was saying. All I knew was that he was pissed and I was going to get beat. Again. As often as this has happened, I still coukdn't help but run each time. Dad came around the banister as I screamed and ran up the stairs as fast as I could. I dove for my bedroom but didn't make it. He grabbed a fist full of hair and yanked me backwards. I yelped in pain as tears sprang to my eyes.

"Please!" I screamed. "Stop it!"

I've never been able to understand why he hates me so much. There's no rhyme or reason to it. He just does, I guess. For years I've tried to do everything right. I clean the house constantly, I get straight A's despite my long absences from school (due to the bruises and swelling), I never argue, I don't go out so there's no way I can stay out past curfew. And I always get him presents for Fathers' Day, Christmas, and his birthday, when in return, I don't get anything. I think the last time I received a gift was when I was nine. The last year Mom was alive.

"Please! Stop it!" he mocked, laughing evily. He pulled my head back to his chest and put his mouth at my ear. "You can't stop me!" he taunted loudly. "You never could."

He shoved me away from him and I fell to my knees. I cried out in pain when I felt the kick he delivered to my ribs. He laughed harder.

"How's that feel, whore?!" he yelled at me.

"Pleeeaase!" I sobbed. "It... hurts..."

"Oh, you don't like that?" he shouted. "Still hurting from the last time I take it? Well boo-fucking-hoo!"

He dealt another blow to my side and I gasped. He dragged me off the floor by my hair and I screamed. How the hell did the neighbors never hear this?! Dad threw me against the wall then proceeded to bash my head against it. He usually didn't go this far so often. He knew that most of the time the bruises weren't that easy to cover. He also knew that I had to go to school without anyone discovering 'our little secret' as he calls it. But lately this is all I've been getting. What had him so enraged? When he finally tired of trying to break my head, I was about unconscious. The side of my face was bloody and I felt something warm trickling from my nose. I swayed on my feet and Dad just let me fall. I was crying and gasping for breath but not getting any air because every time I opened my mouth blood would seep inside. He bent down and punched me in the stomach two or three times for the finale. I held my breath until I was sure he had gone back downstairs, then I slowly, painfully crawled into my bedroom and quietly shut the door. I dragged myself into my bathroom and grabbed some toilet paper, putting it up to my bleeding nose. Then I just laid there on the tile floor, fighting the urge to throw up, crying my eyes out, and hating my life more than ever.

I must have fallen asleep after that because I woke up on the bathroom floor with a huge headache and a slightly upset stomach. I lifted myself off the floor. My nose had stopped gushing so I threw away the toilet paper and grabbed a washcloth. I gently washed the blood from my face, wincing every time I ran over a cut or gash. This would be even worse in the morning. Wonderful. I decided to take a really cold bath to numb my aching body. It helped considerably. When I was finished, I, with great difficulty, put on one of my very few T-shirts, a pair of comfy sweats, and a pair of fuzzy socks I won at a school function a few years back. I then inched my way towards my bed. The clock on my night stand said it was 7:00. I was asleep for multiple hours?! How odd. I climbed into my bed moaning in pain from the effort. It was going to be another long night. I was definitely not going to school tomorrow. I laid down on my reasonably comfortable mattress and just tried to hold still. I hurt everywhere. I closed my eyes and took a slow, deep breath. Eventually I fell asleep dreaming of Rylan. What's new though? I've been dreaming of Rylan for years. But maybe he was just on my mind because I felt guilty. I promised to have lunch with him tomorrow, but I wasn't going to be there. I'd call him if I had his number. I'll have to remember to get that soon.