The Life of A Teenage Nymphomaniac (Paused)

Prologue

Trigger Warning: This passage contains vivid imagery of self harm and abuse. You have been warned.

***

As I walk into the door the stench of alcohol immediately hits me. So hard that I feel the need to vomit. I gently close the door as to not disrupt my father and head up to my room. Unfortunately for me, people of my size aren't really good at keeping quiet.

I hear the snoring in the living room stop and I start panicking. Like clockwork my dad is standing behind me within seconds. I don't even need to turn around, whenever he is in my vicinity I can sense it. There’s a dark aura that surrounds him and with every second I stand here not facing him it gets darker, colder, more menacing.

Fearfully I turn around on my heel and walk back down the two steps I managed to get up to. Hanging my head in shame I wait for him to speak.

“Where is it?” He asks in a raspy voice.

“I-I d-don't have it-t.” I manage to say.

“I know you do. Just fork it over.”

“Dad I don't think you should be-”

I didn't get to finish my sentence before I was sent to the ground with a powerful punch to my right eye. Skillfully I manage to hold back my cries of pain for fear that it will only encourage more torment. His foot cocked back and he planted an equally powerful kick to my abdomen. He bent down and picked me up by the collar of my shirt. He was so close to my face that I can actually taste the Jack he had for breakfast.

“Listen here you little shit. I don't care what you think, give me the fucking money.”

I reach into my back pocket holding back tears and bring out the wad of cash from this weeks paycheck. He snatches it out of my hands and dials a number he knows all too well.

“Yeah i’ve got it. Everything from last time. That fine piece of ass? Tell her to come too.” He hangs up the phone and throws fifty dollars at me.

“Get up and go get the usual.”

Without saying another word, I walk out the door and head to the closest liquor store. I grab all the necessities and pull out the fake ID that my father forced me to get. The lady rings me up and I pay quickly exiting the store and getting back home.

This time when I open the door I don't even try escaping to my room. I place all the bottles on the grimy counter that is never cleaned and try to find something to eat. The problem with your dad using every cent in the house to buy drugs and booze is that we never have anything sufficient to eat in the house. I settle on a half eaten bag of stale cheez-its. While I was eating I heard the door open and immediately dropped everything to go hide up in my room. But I guess I’m too slow.

On the way to the stairs I run into my dad, his friend Bobby, and a prostitute named Amy. My dad grabbed my arm to stop me and looked at me with rage filled in his eyes.

“We have guests. Say hello.”

“Hi.” I squeak out attempting to please him. He lets go of my arm and I proceed up the stairs but I hear footsteps behind me. Before I open my room door I am slammed to the wall opposite of it.

“Hey baby.” Bobby says caressing my upper thigh. “You know I missed you last week.”

“Let go of me.” I whisper.

“I don't think so.”

“I’ll scream.”

“Oh really? Go ahead no one’s coming to get you though.”