SEDUCING BAD BOYS -PART 2-
"I'm Home!" My drunken father yells. Not only is he a drunk but he is also on drugs and often in bad circles of people.
I grimace and lock my door, just in case. I still had a bruise from yesterday when I came home half an hour late and he had lashed me with his belt.
I sniff and dump the contents of my bag on my bed. Books, pens, paper, lunch and a can of homemade rum-coke for if ever I wanted to celebrate my birthday on my own on top of a bridge before jumping.
Not an idea to look forward to you might think but to me it held some appeal.
My door suddenly vibrates and I hear my dad curse loudly.
"Catalina! Open this damn door this instant! NOW!"
I whimper quietly and hide under my bed, quickly cribbling a note and leaving it on my desk.
It said : 'Dear Lizz and Beth, I'm at a friend's house, could you please inform dad I would be a bit late? Thanks…'
I cross my fingers and bite into my fist when the door crashes open and my dad staggers in.
The smell of crack, alcohol and sweat reach my nostrils and I almost gag.
"I know you're in here, you little bitch! Come out!" He yells, sending my things flying everywhere in his drunken frenzy.
"A friend's house! You don't have any friends! CATALINA!"
I flinch and feel the silent tears roll down my cheeks.
Finally, after a bit more ransacking, my father leaves and trudges to his room where his stoned wife is waiting, on her back, legs parted, eyes open but unseeing.
I crawl out and sniff silently, closing my door as quietly as possible and looking around my room sadly.
I sight and creep out, descending the stairs and just as I am about to open the door, the foul smell of liquor reaches my, now hypersensitive, nose.
I whimper and turn around, finding myself face to face with my dad. He is smaller than me but he is built like a bulldozer and can probably knock out any full grown man if he wasn't drunk; Right now I'm not so sure.
"So." He says, eyes constantly narrowed because of the drugs he's inhaled, drank and smoked.
"How's my little baby today?" He says in a mock-baby voice.
I sob and the first hit comes.
Crashing to the floor, I try to scramble up but he kicks me and all the air in my lungs vanish.
I stay there, gasping and whimpering.
As if something new had crossed his fogged mind, my father bends down and pulls violently at my shirt, making me freeze in fear.
"What are you doing?" I whisper, my voice lost.
He grunts and rips what's left of my shirt off me.
I scream and he hits me again. I hear the zipper of his shorts and my mind locks down into panick mode. The mode that always gets me out and into trouble.
My hand, out of its own accord, grabs a small lamp which had fallen to the floor and throws it at my dad's skull.
He falls like a sack of bricks, his pants half down.
I scramble up and run to my room, grabbing a fresh shirt, throwing in all the money I earned working part-time at the cafeteria in my back pack along with a couple clothes then I run to my dad's room where I know all his spare change resides.
My stepmom was super rich and therefore we live in a luxurious house.
I wrench the drawer open, not even bothering to be silent. After all, my mom is too stoned to even notice a nuclear war if it crashed in front of her window.
I pull the drawer clean out and grab the three stacks of new hundred dollar bills before running flat out of there.
I rush to my PC and just as I am about to shut it down, a message appears.
I look back onto the hall where I hear inhumanly grunts and start panicking, pressing ENTER without looking and trying to shut it down.
I hear my father take hold of the staircase and I decide to abandon the PC.
Just as I turn away from it, the screen sends flashing red and blue lights and before I know what's happening, I loose consciousness.
