I ran my fingers along the cold wooden balcony rail as I slowly went downstairs. Something seemed different today.
As I neared the living room I noticed that he was passed out on the couch with a empty liquor bottle in his hand.
I cringed at the strong smell. I needed some fresh air.
As I began to head out I stopped in my tracks when I heard his horrid deep voice.
“Where the fuck do you think your going?” he asked. I slowly turned around to face him, swallowing the lump in my throat.
His eyes looked weak and dialated. His shirt was stained with all sorts of grease and his hair looked dirty and messy. His forehead glistened with sweat. Homeless. One would of thought at the sight of him.
“I was going to get some fresh air” I quietly replied barely making eye contact.
“You stay inside and get me some more beer”He demanded.
I shook my head. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I closed my eyes.
He was drinking himself to his grave with that heart condition.
I'm sorry but no I said. This time making full eye contact.
You worth less ungrateful bitch! He yelled. I didn't make much of what he said it was usual for him to treat me like this.
Before I could leave. I was hit with something hard in the back. I could taste blood.
I groaned in agony until I saw complete darkness.
