"Get off me!" she protested.
"You're drunk Sarah," her father informed her.
"So are you, fucking hypocrite."
"I've been so lonely since your mother left."
She convulsed in repulsion.
"You are sick, you know that," she replied, feeling nauseous.
"Don't you want to make your father happy."
"Not in that way," she replied honestly, sliding out from underneath him.
"Where are you going bitch?" he asked, grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her back.
She cried out in pain.
"Dad what the fuck are you doing?"
"Don't make me hurt you. Now come here and lie down like a good girl."
"No way," she refused.
He twisted her arm further behind her back.
"Dad, dad, stop. You'll break my arm.ow!"
"Will you do it?"
"Ok, ok, please just stop," she begged.
He stood behind her, still holding her arm and waited for her to comply with his request.
"Sit up!" he barked as he released her arm.
"Make up your fucking mind," she muttered under her breath, sitting and rubbing her wrist ruefully.
"You're such a slut Sarah," he growled, slapping her across the face.
She glared at him, but said nothing.
Glowering menacingly, he grabbed the neckline of her singlet and ripped it down the centre.
"Take it off!" he demanded.
"Take what off?" she questioned, wide eyed.
"Everything."
"Get fucked," she spat.
He whacked her across the face so hard it made her head throb.
"Don't make me hit you again."
"I won't do it."
The second blow came to the other side of her face within seconds.
"Fuck you," she screamed, complying with his request dizzily.
"It's ok baby, it'll all be ok," he said soothingly as he lay on top of her.
"You bastard, you sick bastard," she mumbled before she slipped into unconsciousness..
Everything was hazy.
He was in her, around her, everywhere. The blow to her temple caused her head to spin and her vision to become blurred. She could taste the alcohol on his breath. She stopped fighting it and surrendered to the sickness in her stomach.
She threw up all over him.
Grabbing whatever was on the nightstand next to the bed, she brought it crashing down on his head. Pushing him away with all her strength, she got up of the bed and pulled her clothes back on then ran from the room.
Skating away from the house with her ripped singlet flapping open in the wind, she had no idea where she was going until Jesse ran out of the shed and grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Sarah, what happened to you?" he asked.
"You know, who cares?" she stated, flipping the skateboard up and catching it, "Let's go inside."
She walked into the shed, through the skateboard down and marched over to the table.
Grabbing a bottle of rum she drank half the bottle before Jesse got a chance to walk inside.
"What do you think of this shirt?" she asked him, finishing the bottle and collapsing on the sofa.
* * * * * *
"You're drunk Sarah," her father informed her.
"So are you, fucking hypocrite."
"I've been so lonely since your mother left."
She convulsed in repulsion.
"You are sick, you know that," she replied, feeling nauseous.
"Don't you want to make your father happy."
"Not in that way," she replied honestly, sliding out from underneath him.
"Where are you going bitch?" he asked, grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her back.
She cried out in pain.
"Dad what the fuck are you doing?"
"Don't make me hurt you. Now come here and lie down like a good girl."
"No way," she refused.
He twisted her arm further behind her back.
"Dad, dad, stop. You'll break my arm.ow!"
"Will you do it?"
"Ok, ok, please just stop," she begged.
He stood behind her, still holding her arm and waited for her to comply with his request.
"Sit up!" he barked as he released her arm.
"Make up your fucking mind," she muttered under her breath, sitting and rubbing her wrist ruefully.
"You're such a slut Sarah," he growled, slapping her across the face.
She glared at him, but said nothing.
Glowering menacingly, he grabbed the neckline of her singlet and ripped it down the centre.
"Take it off!" he demanded.
"Take what off?" she questioned, wide eyed.
"Everything."
"Get fucked," she spat.
He whacked her across the face so hard it made her head throb.
"Don't make me hit you again."
"I won't do it."
The second blow came to the other side of her face within seconds.
"Fuck you," she screamed, complying with his request dizzily.
"It's ok baby, it'll all be ok," he said soothingly as he lay on top of her.
"You bastard, you sick bastard," she mumbled before she slipped into unconsciousness..
Everything was hazy.
He was in her, around her, everywhere. The blow to her temple caused her head to spin and her vision to become blurred. She could taste the alcohol on his breath. She stopped fighting it and surrendered to the sickness in her stomach.
She threw up all over him.
Grabbing whatever was on the nightstand next to the bed, she brought it crashing down on his head. Pushing him away with all her strength, she got up of the bed and pulled her clothes back on then ran from the room.
Skating away from the house with her ripped singlet flapping open in the wind, she had no idea where she was going until Jesse ran out of the shed and grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Sarah, what happened to you?" he asked.
"You know, who cares?" she stated, flipping the skateboard up and catching it, "Let's go inside."
She walked into the shed, through the skateboard down and marched over to the table.
Grabbing a bottle of rum she drank half the bottle before Jesse got a chance to walk inside.
"What do you think of this shirt?" she asked him, finishing the bottle and collapsing on the sofa.
* * * * * *