You get me - Boris Pavlikovsky x reader

Home at last

Warning: mild abuse/swearing 

As I walked into my house, I was surprised to see my dad home. My mum left me with my dad when I was 6. And till this day, I still haven't heard from her. I didn't even get a goodbye, she just left without a trace. My dad never really explained why she left but it's pretty obvious she left because of him. My dad isn't exactly the nicest person. He has drinking problems and is rarely home. Sometimes he leaves the house for a few days and doesn't come home. He doesn't tell me anything, or leave a note or money or food. That's why I turn to stealing. I mean, I have no choice. I go to the supermarket and steal food for myself when my dad's gone.  I have had to learn to take care of myself from a young age. And when he is home, he isn't the nicest person. He gets angry easily, I mean, I'm sure he doesn't mean it but sometimes he hurts me. "Hi dad," 

"Y/N where have you been?" He stared coldly at the drink in his hand, not looking up at me. 

"I just came home from school," 

"Your school ends at 3, Y/N. It's 6. It doesn't take you THREE GOD DAMN HOURS TO GET HOME FROM SCHOOL. I REPEAT MYSELF AGAIN, WHERE WERE YOU, Y/N"

I trembled. My dad was in his angry mood again and it scared me when he was. "I'm sorry, I was at the park okay? I didn't know it was this late. It'll never happen again, I'm really sorry I... I just lost track of time," My dad approached me, I stared at my feet, not wanting too look him in the eyes. I hated when he was like this, I just couldn't look at him. He grabbed my wrist. I tried to free my hand but his grip was too tight. Tears swelled in my eyes. "LOOK AT ME WHEN I FUCKING SPEAK TO YOU. I AM YOU FATHER, YOU OBEY ME AND YOU LISTEN TO ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU. DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING COME HOME LATE AGAIN. YOU WILL NOT COME HOME LATER THAN 4. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" 

I  nodded. "Yes, I understand father," I said nervously.

"SAY IT LOUDER. I CAN'T FUCKING HEAR YOU AND DID YOU HEAR WHAT I SAID: LOOK AT ME!" My lips trembled and my wrist was hurting. I looked up at him and said more clear this time, "I understand father," He looked at me in disgust before he let go roughly and pushed me onto the floor. "Go to your fucking room, you little brat," I got up and ran to my room. I hated it when my dad was like this. Sometimes he was nice, sometimes he was gone, sometimes he couldn't care less about me and sometimes he hurt me. I hopped onto my bed and crawled into a ball. I cried and cried. I missed my mum. I just wanted to hear something from her. My mum was nice and much different to my dad. I wanted to see her again. I hated it here. My dad wasn't nice at all, I just wanted someone who I could talk to, someone who knew what it felt like to go through what I was going through. Eventually I felt my eyes getting sleepy and before I knew it, all was black.