"Ah!" I grab my side, feeling a sharp pain pierce my stomach and ribs.
"Why were you out late?!"
He kicked me again.
"A-ah!"
Lifting his foot off my stomach for a second, with a glare so cold it could make anyone piss their pants, he says "Now make me dinner you piece of shit." Then stomps his foot back down, making me vomit.
He looks at me dead in the eyes before he walks away. He stops, looks back at me on the ground and says "Clean this up" then continues walking to his room.
Looking down at the old wooded floor I see my own blood and vomit. I live in a very old and run down house, the floors are made of old, dark wood stained with my blood from the many times he's hurt me. The walls are the same color as the floors and there also made of wood. We have a old couch that my dad got at a garage sale saying that I didn't deserve to have a real one. Our TV is older than our couch, but I'm not allowed to use it so it doesn't really matter to me. Our kitchen is only a few feet away from the living room with a fridge that's never stocked. The stove and oven is where I spend most of my time, other than my room. I can't use the TV without his permission or sit on the couch, I can't eat without his permission either, but hey! I'm used to it! My dads room is to the left of the kitchen, across from the bathroom. I've never seen what's inside of it but I know that's where he takes the girl he brings home. The bathroom is a regular bathroom, its not that old or gross, just a normal bathroom. My room is on the right of the living room, you can actually see my door when you walk through the front door. I'm pressed up against it right now, stumbling to get the rag and bucket I use to clean everything.
Stumble
Blood pooling in my mouth I grab and fill the bucket with water. Almost falling I make my way to the pile of vomit. With shaking hands I slowly mop it up.
Rising out the rag and dumping out the water, I start his dinner.
Placing the food on a plate and making the table for him I hear him walk out of his room. His strong foot steps echo through this old house.
Sitting on the chair I pulled out for him he starts to eat.
"Go in your room."
Smiling with a bruised cheek I go into my room.
"He liked it! He really liked it!
Flopping down on my bed, still covered in blood, I hug my pillow.
My room is pretty basic, a bookshelf with ten books I've read a million times. Bare walls, the same as in the living room. A bed, kinda modern and a wooden dresser full of my clothes.
"He liked it, he really liked it... He liked it... Hmm..." That's all I needed today, today was a nice day.