Excerpt - The white oak front door slams shut and I look up to see a demon panting in the living room-oh wait it's just my father. I can practically see the steam shooting out of his nostrils and ears. He drops his suitcases down on the ground and storms over to me. 'Was it you?' I put down my book and look at my father in the eye, since to not do so would be an act of disrespect and would give him an excuse to beat me or lecture me. I hesitantly ask, 'What was me?' He leans down and growls, 'You know what I'm talking about!' WARNING - A dark short story Themes of Domestic abuseAll Rights Reserved