I didn't know how long I'd been day dreaming when I heard the door slam. I hurried to clean up the few things that were out of place before the stomping began.
I ran back to my bed and counted the 8 stomps up the stairs. With the click of the lock, the door swung open and I saw the thing I dreaded most in this world.
There he stood, with his dirtied work boots, ripped out dated jeans, an unbuttoned dark blue shirt, and a stained undershirt. The face with too wide a nose and thin lips always stretched in a grim line, and beady eyes as black as coal and as hot as fire, staring at me with one of the only expressions his face can have, pure hate.
I swallowed silently and waited for it to begin. A few seconds passed and no sound was made, with exception of his heavy breathing.
Then, it started.
As he practically ran at me and slapped me across the face, yelling words and sentences that I've heard a thousand times before, I held my tears in. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of crying. Not today.
The back of his hand connected with my cheek so hard it forced me off of the bed and onto the floor. My head connected with the edge of the desk on the way down. I could feel the pounding in my head and the blood began to drip down my scalp.
The heavy thumping of the wound almost drowned out the sound of his screaming entirely. But, I wasn't that lucky. I stayed perfectly still and only worked on controlling my breathing.
Two hundred and ten breaths later, a perfectly placed kick to my ribs sent a shock throughout my body. My body jerked and tried to recoil, but I tried to keep it in the same place it was before the violent shudders.
He laughed at my pathetic attempt and placed his foot in the exact spot it was and just held it there. A half second later, he pushed down. I screamed out in agony and tried to get out from under his foot.
Him being 100 pounds superior, I didn't even move an inch. He laughed loudly to himself and muttered unintelligent words and finally let up. I felt as if a thousand pound truck had just dropped on me.
I couldn't move even if I tried.
As my nightmare walked from my room, I let the pain envelop me and draw me into the sweet surrender of unconsciousness.
A loud noise woke me from my heaven.
As my body moved to get in a standing position, my head groaned in protest and everything doubled.
Grabbing the edge of the desk, I steadied myself and concentrated on my breathing.
After it was safe to move without reconnecting with the ground, I put my head against the door trying to put together the pieces that made that noise.
Stupid, stupid, stupid move.
The door flew open and sent my body crashing to the floor…again.
My own personal nightmare stared at me with a cocky smirk and glaring eyes.
I glared right back.
Not really sure where my sudden confidence came from. My head must still be floating on that cloud I try so hard to stay off of.
"Why are you on the floor?"
What was I supposed to say? Oh, I just regained consciousness and I decided to eavesdrop? I suppose I could, but that would just result in him getting angrier.
"I fell," I said lamely.
"You fell? God, you are so pathetic!" He always made sure to tell me that at least once a day, in case I forget. I haven't forgotten one thing that he has told me since he moved in here 4 years ago. The past 4 years have been a blast. Heavy on the sarcasm.
I let him rant, getting some of it out of his system. I didn't really pay attention this time. His vocabulary is bound to run out at some point.
"…no wonder Charlie left your pathetic family…" Ouch. That little comment hurt worse than the door. You see, Charlie is my father. He left my life when I was 9. Causing James to enter.