Nervously I sat at the table, I knew my father was planning something, and the fact that I didn't know what, was making me panic- "I need to get away…" I thought, "I should finish my homework…" I said quietly, going to sit up, but my father quickly began speaking. "Stay right there." his voice was firm and much louder than it needed to be, slowly I relaxed back into the chair. "What did I tell you about meal time Ulquiorra? Hmm?" He didn't bother to look up at me but instead continued to stab at his chicken with his fork, I didn't know if he was expecting an answer or not, I was never good at reading people- let alone him.
"Well?" He spoke loudly again, I jumped at his tone, this time he looked up at me and I found my eyes jumping down to look at the table, the rule was only made a few months ago, "Meal times are meant to be spent with family…" I spoke softly but clearly, he began chuckling to himself and I waited, completely on edge, for him to speak like I knew he would.
"Just like a dog. What's your grades in school anyway?" he shoved mash potatoes into his mouth, "Umm… Good… I have high grades…" I knew it didn't matter what I said because he would say something mean anyway. "Figures. You're a tool!" he let out a barking laugh, "You're too weak, maybe if you spent some time outside- or working!" If I told him I had bad grades he would have called me stupid, but because I said I had good grades he calls me weak and brings up the fact that I'm sixteen and I don't have a job yet.
He continued with a lecture I have heard so many times, "When I was your age I had a full time job, fuck sitting in my room- looking at a fucking piece of paper! No, I worked my ass off and I made good money to support my family, what the hell do you do for this house? Hmm? Do you pay any of the God damn bills? No." he only stopped to swallow his food, but he got distracted and just continued eating. And technically I do, the government pays him six hundred dollars a month because my mother passed when I was just a baby- probably why I have such a weak immune system, but my parents weren't together when it happened so the government pays the child support now.
He finished eating but he just sat there, I became even more nervous with each passing second. "Go bring me your bag…" he mumbled out, grunting, I gave him a questionable look but when he carefully enunciated it in a mocking tone I jumped from my seat, walking through the open doorway and down the hall to my room, passing the bathroom on the way- I could go in the bathroom, lock the door and climb out the window, I thought, imagining it all the while as I almost mechanically grabbed my bag and brought it out to him.
"Just like a dog," I heard him chuckle again, he had already pushed his plate aside and now had my black bag sitting on the table. It was ripped and torn and the bottom layers had become so thin that it was see through in a few places, but I was terrified to ask for a new one or to even buy myself a new one, he pulled out the only thing inside- my 3 subject notebook.
Inside were all the papers I needed or had just gotten back and I panicked a bit when I thought of this, I had just gotten a paper back in History… I got a zero on it. Not because I didn't understand what I was doing- I actually got a hundred on it, but because I had handed it in late, the teacher gave me a zero for it in the computer but gave me a hundred for another assignment that I had a eighty-seven on- she said it would even it all out in a way she saw fit (even though it actually lowered my score more).
And while I was having this tiny panic attack, my father found the paper and was looking at it, "You're such a fucking liar," he mumbled, staring at it, too bad I didn't have any other papers to counterfeit the one he held in his hand, my vision blacked for a moment as a loud ear splitting breaking sound filled my ears. When I gained my sense back I was on the floor, shattered glass all around me, I was dizzy for a second but after I gained my…footing, you could say, I could feel the blood running down from the side of my face and down my neck.
"Ugh…" I said, looking at myself in the mirror… it was a sad sight. My eyes were a green that glowed but they only reminded me of the woman I never got to meet, my skin pale- and as I said before, I have a very weak immune system and as my father said- I never go outside. My hair was sleek black- nobody in school believed it was natural, not a good thing, but just to make my appearance worse I had a cut. Turning my head to the side I looked at the space on my face where a cut stretched across, running from the edge of my temple down to my ear lobe, not straight at all but deep.
The blood was dried to a brown color and flaked down my cheek and down my neck, I harshly rubbed the dried brown off and softly dabbed around the wound- trying not to hiss in pain.
"Get your ass up!" my eyes popped open as my body shot forward, a natural reaction when I heard my father shouting at me to wake up. I let out a groan, not at all happy to be awake yet, I hated school…
Downstairs I had cracked two eggs in a pan, getting an omelet made for my father while he was in the shower, my body hurt but that wasn't unusual, hearing the shower shut off I was quick to put the omelet on the plate and have it ready for him, I looked at the mess from the night before, I had passed out a bit from the pain and shock and when I woke up my father was gone so I went straight to the bathroom.
Slowly I sat on the ground, picking up the pieces of glass and the silverware, I heard my father come out and sit in the chair- the scrapping of his fork against the plate. A gasp escaped my lips as a piece of glass sliced across my palm, staring at the wound, I wanted to squeeze the pain away but there was a piece of glass still inside. "What'd you do?" I heard my father mumble out, slowly I answered, "The glass cut my palm…" I continued to stare at it, not knowing how to get it to stop hurting.
"Come 'ere" His voice was much smoother and clearer this time, I continued to stare at the wound as I stood up and moved closer to him, he grabbed hold of my wrist and pulled my hand closer to him, he looked at it and spoke, "Hold still," he grabbed hold of the glass and pulled the piece out, I tried not to move but I couldn't stop from shaking, "Go clean it in the bathroom, patch it up… and your face," I found my feet shuffling to the bathroom.
The blood finally stopped flowing and I began to patch it up, once it was done I took three butterfly bandages and placed them on the wound, moving as fast as I could because I still had to get ready for school and clean up the mess and then get to school.
Starting to kneel back down to pick up the even bigger mess I made my father spoke out, "Leave it be. Get a bowl of cereal or something and eat with me." hesitantly I stood up and did as I was told, only putting a small amount in my bowl. When I sat down my father spoke yet again, "You should eat more than that- you never eat, I don't mind if you're vegetarian- but you need to eat more, that's probably why you always get sick." he began eating again.
I hated this, I hated it when he was like this. He would seem kind and like everything was fine when I knew it wasn't and sometimes he would just pretend to be nice so he could get me to get closer to him before he really hurt me… I didn't know how to act when he did this and I think he knew that.
Placing his plate and silverware in the sink my father placed his hand on my head- as a goodbye, and left, I hurriedly ate the rest of my food and washed the dishes, picking up the mess and cleaning it- I still had about ten minutes to get around for school. Going to my room, I left my door open- no reason to shut it when my father wasn't even home, I pulled off my shirt and grabbed the one I planned on wearing but with a quick whiff I could tell it was dirty, I threw it by my door.
Looking down I saw the shinny scars that covered up my wrist, normally I wore long sleeve shirts or my sweatshirt and bracelets just in case but right now my complete upper half was nude and that didn't bother me, till I heard a small grunt. Spinning around I saw my father standing in my doorway, his arms placed on the sides of the doorway- his way of telling me that I couldn't escape anytime soon.
"Again?" his voice sounded annoyed, I didn't understand what he was talking about, when I noticed him looking at my wrist I knew what he was saying. About two days ago I gave myself a deep gash- so deep that when it bled it didn't really even bead but rather formed in a straight line. I didn't know what he wanted me to say and I didn't even know if I wanted to say anything, he took a deep breath and told me to come over to him, slowly I did just that.
"What the hell!" He yelled in my face, "I thought we talked about this!" he yelled again, now there was no way for me to respond because his hand clamped around my throat so tight I could hardly even get air to my lungs, I knew from past experiences that it would make the situation worse if I tried to pull him off or grabbed his wrist.
His eyes looked like they wanted to murder me, and he might have tired but I mumbled out something that normally saved me, "I have to get to school…" my voice was weak but I really didn't care. His grip loosened a bit and I was starting to feel relieved then I felt a pain explode in the side of my face, sending my vision and balance reeling as everything blacked out for a moment.
Bringing his fist back to him he used the same hand to gently turn my face to look at him, "I didn't tell you to speak… We'll talk about this when you get home." his hands were gone and I fell to the ground, choking on the air and coughing till I could finally get oxygen, my eyes began to burn as tears tried to build up, his truck rumbled as he drove off.
"God I hate this!" I shouted standing up again, I had grabbed my pillow that was on the edge of the bed and began to hit my bed over and over with it. I hated dealing with him and I hated how I could never do anything. "Fuck!" I shouted, continuing to hit my bed harder and harder till my muscles in my arm began to hurt. The tears were still in my eyes and I willed them to come out, I'd rather deal with it now than when I'm around people.
I wasn't upset or feeling sorry for myself that I cried, I just got so angry because I could never hit him back- never fight back, I was always, "Sad, weak, little Ulquiorra," as my father said, I hated that I couldn't do anything about it! A few tears had fallen down my cheeks and the feeling of it all went away, I walked to my dresser and took my remaining anger out on it as I harshly pulled the drawer open and slammed it shut, grabbing all the clothes I needed in the process.
Looking in the mirror I made sure I was presentable. I had a long sleeved- too big for me, green and gray, about an inch and a half- horizontal stripes and a pair of black tight fitting jeans, I slipped on my dark Gucci shoes gone Converse and stared at my face. There was a slight discoloration around my eye and on my jaw line- it'd probably be a bruise by the end of the day, I moved my jaw and could already feel the swelling, "Fuck…" I mumbled.
Grabbing my stuff I left for school, a red car full of seniors drove by, I looked over to see them flipping me off… Today was going to be a long day.
This is going to be short, only three chapters, but how do you like it?