I watch as the black SUV heads down the street. Taylor dropped me off quickly after I finished my breakfast at Escala. Nothing was said during the short drive to my little house at the edge of the city. He was professional as always and I was too trapped inside my own mind to stir up any small talk.

It's strange really. I've lived here my entire life and even though my dad has caused issues in my life, this was always my home. The place where I grew up and felt safe in. Now, well now I feel nothing as I head up towards the front porch. I don't feel relived to be back, I don't feel safe. If anything I feel a little separated from the house that I always considered my home. It was a foreign, empty feeling.

I enter the house and shut the door quickly behind me. It's still early in the morning. Maybe my father wouldn't be awake yet and he'll drop the whole thing.

A sound from the kitchen quickly proves me wrong.

"Ana? Is that you?" He calls out.

I see him sitting at the kitchen table reading a newspaper and sipping on a cup of coffee and what I assume is whisky. I drop my overnight bag on the counter and cringe when Christian's basket of goodies is sitting right there. The boxes of food were already opened and half-eaten from what I could see. I also noticed how the gift cards were gone. I couldn't help but feel disappointed and profoundly sad…but also mad. How dare he take away my gifts! Christian gave that stuff to me for me!

"Why did you take it all?" I spin around to face him. "Those were my gifts. You had no right to take my stuff."

At first I think he doesn't hear me, but then he shuts the paper and stands. He prowls closer until I'm forced to back up into the countertop. "Your stuff?" His breath on my face confirms that he was indeed drinking whisky. "Your stuff!" With one sweep of his hand he knocks the entire basket off the counter and I watch as it spreads out across the kitchen floor. "You live in my house! So let's get one thing straight little girl." He reaches out and grips onto my face with his big hand. "Your stuff is my stuff. You got that?"

I shake in his hold, but I don't try to fight him. It's not worth it. I used to stand up to him, but all it's gotten me is more hurt back. "Y-yes." I whisper.

"Where the hell were you this weekend?"

"I told you. I was at Kate's?

He scoffs and releases my face. "Still a little liar. I know you weren't at your little bitch friends. She called the house asking for you."

I drop my head, defeated. Shit I didn't think she would be calling me so soon. I should have told her what I was doing, but then she would have tried to stop me. "I-I was at another friends." The words even sound like a lie.

"You were out screwing some boy that's what you were doing, Ana." He bends down and grabs the card that came with the gift basket. "A mister C. Grey is seems. Well," He begins to rip up the card. I watch as the soft pieces flow down to the floor. "You'll never see him again will you, Ana? No more fucking around while you're sleeping under my roof." He turns away to sit back down. "No boy would want your bratty ass anyway. I bet he's sleeping with someone else right now."

I clench my fists so hard that my nails pierce my skin. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

He turns towards me slowly. My blood should turn ice cold, but instead it just made me boil even more. "Watch how you talk to me." He growls.

"No, for once you listen! I am your daughter and I deserve to be treated with more respect. You know nothing about my life let alone my romantic life, so stop commenting on it!" I scream out the words and for once I don't regret them. I've held back for so long that it feels like a brick off my chest.

He stands so fast that the chair flies out behind him. I have no time to react before his fingers are wrapped around my neck and his face is in mine. "You fucking cunt! You think you can talk to me like this? I am your father!" He squeezes so hard that I am forced to gasp for oxygen. I claw at his hand, begging him to release my tender flesh. "I give you everything and you think you can act like an ungrateful bitch?" He slaps me across my cheek with his other hand. The sting from that and the pressure in my throat makes me sob for a release.

"Stop this!" I sob and rub where he squeezed me. "You are evil! How dare you even call yourself human let alone my father."

He grips my upper arm and spins me around until I land hard on the floor. I grip my arm feeling the bruises already forming. The fight leaves me as quickly as it came. I manage to stand back up and meet his red-hot rage. "I should kick you out. That's the only way you're going to learn."

"Do it." I hiss. "It would be better than living with you."

He grips my arm again and slaps me once more. I grunt away the pain. I'm used to it. It'll fade after a couple of weeks. I feel his thumbs dig into my ribs as he pushes me back into the wall. "I don't want to see you down here again today. You stay up in your room like a fucking child because that's what you are."

He releases me and I sag against the wooden door behind me. "Please stop." I beg, feeling too hurt physically and mentally to continue. He doesn't say anything more, but he stands back and goes sit at the table. I watch him drain his cup empty and go back to reading the paper.

I straighten my back and ignore the throbbing in my arms. Without another word I grab my bag and head upstairs to my room.

The rest of the week was quiet and for that I was thankful. I spent most of my time reading the books I had scattered around my bedroom and watched a few old movies on my laptop. My dad and I didn't talk for an entire two days. It was now Wednesday afternoon and I've done nothing but go to work and stay in my little room trying to make it to the weekend.

After the argument the other day I was now forced to wear long-sleeved shirts to work since my upper arms are now covered in bruises. Luckily it was getting colder out and it wasn't out of the ordinary.

I haven't heard from Christian since I left Sunday morning. I didn't expect to, yet I check my phone like I'm waiting for a message. Kate has blown me up, but I don't respond. I don't feel like confiding in her now. Instead I find myself wanting Christian. I miss his controlling ways and his softening heart. I daydream about reading in the library and eating Miss Jones's amazing cooking.

I throw my phone down on the bed and head downstairs to find something to eat. I grab a pack of mac and cheese when it's suddenly grabbed from my hands.

"Not yours." He throws the packet back in the pantry. "Get your man to buy you new food."

"Well maybe if you wouldn't eat it all." I mumble under my breath, thinking he didn't hear me.

But he did. He pulls me away and forces to make me face him. Once again his palm connects with my face. My hand cups the abused cheek feeling it hot and wet with new tears.

I run out and back up the stairs hearing him follow behind me. I slam my door and lock it. He pounds his fists against the wood saying terrible threats and telling me to never cross him again.

I can't take much more of this. I can physically and mentally feel myself reaching my limit. I only have one person I can turn to and he doesn't even know what's happening.