The Drunkard's Daughter

Kara

Ivy and I walked to her house, chatting about little nothings.

"Did you hear? Matthew and Gabriella broke up!"

I rolled my eyes at the mention of them, mentally gagging. Whenever I saw them, their tongues were down each other's throats.

"Why? Everyone said they were perfect."

"He caught her, with his bestfriend, in the men's bathroom stall."

Ivy said smugly, excited to have some drama to talk about.

"Gross."

"I know! He even hit his now formerly best friend in the face."

I was about to say something and a honk from a familiar car sounded behind us. Dread filled my stomach.

"Kara get in the car, now!"

"Bye Ivy."

I muttered before hopping into my father's beat-up Toyota. He sped off, leaving a fearful Ivy on the sidewalk.

---

We pulled up in front of our house, the silent car ride painfully long.

"Meet me in the living room in ten minutes."

His deep voice curled with anger as he spoke. Fear struck me, knowing what was about to happen. Dad got out of the car, heading to the garage. I raced to my room, quickly changing into something with more padding.

I walked into the dingy living room, standing beside the liquor-stained couch. The smell of beer and body odor wafted from the couch, making me want to gag. Before I could run out of the house and to my grandmother's, Dad came stumbling into the room. A bottle of whiskey was gripped tightly in his hand, along with a baseball bat.

"You know what I did today?"

He said, standing in front of me.

"I found out where you go at night, when you sneak out."

I sneak out?

I thought.

"You go to Mother's."

I fidgeted where I stood, my eyes downcast. I heard him take a step towards me, and swing.

I felt the bat collide with my shoulder, pushing me to the floor. I grasped my shoulder, feeling the blood rush to the area of impact.

"I went to Mother'ss, and found ssets of uniformss in your ssize. Now why would my mmother have that?

Whack.

My arms lost their strength at the impact on my back, knocking the wind out of me. I gasped for air, as Dad took a swig of his liquor. I grabbed the moth-eaten rug, trying to pull myself away.

Dad laughed, the smell of the alcohol filling the room.

"No, you'rrre not leaving yet."

I heard the bat hit the floor, right before the sharp pain of my hair being pulled. I felt the rug move beneath me as I was being dragged by my father. I grabbed at his hand that held me, clawing at it.

"I ssshould have done thisss a long time ago."

His words began to slur the more he drank, his grip tightened the more he held onto me.

"Dad please! Let go!"

I screamed, terrified of what he was going to do.

I felt the cold concrete of the garage, then the rough dirt of the ground. I heard the pop of the back of the car opening. I writhed beneath his grip, screaming, praying for anyone to hear me. I felt the fuzzy bottom of the back of the car, the release of my hair, and hearing the click of the hatch close.