TW:

Alcohol abuse, parental abuse, burns

Summary for those who wish to skip this chapter:

Haru's father is drunk and angry. He burns Haru's hand on the stove while they are making dinner. Haru uses the breathing techniques taught to them by Kyojuro to try to calm down, then bandages their hand and tries to pretend it never happened.

I opened the front door carefully, slipping inside as quietly as I could. It wasn't quiet enough.

"Haru, where have you been?"

"I'm sorry I'm late."

"I haven't had dinner yet. I'm going to waste away. Is that what you want? To be responsible for your own father starving to death?"

"No, sir."

I suppressed a sigh and walked into the kitchen. It didn't look like he had gone grocery shopping today. Unsurprising.

How am I going to make a dinner out of three sausages, an onion, and several cups of noodles. My best bet is probably frying them together and serving them on top or on the side, I guess. Or I could soften the onions and add them to the noodles when I cook them up. Make the broth a bit better…hmm…

"Forget about that, go to the store and get me another drink. And some groceries."

I can't do that, the only money I have is in the register.

"I can't do that, someone has to cook."

"I said forget about that."

He tried to stand up, swayed, and sat back down at the table.

I ignored him, chopping the onions up so they'll soften faster.

I felt an empty can strike the back of my head.

"Ow!"

"I said go to the store."

"You don't need any more to drink anyway!"

"What did you say to me!?"

"I am trying to make dinner!"

I touched the back of my head and looked at my hand. No blood, just some swelling.

I went back to chopping.

"You don't know how hard it is, living like me."

I ignored him. I've heard this whole spiel before.

"Kids today are so disrespectful. You don't know how good you have it. When I was your age, both my parents would have beaten me senseless if I spoke back like that."

I chose to focus on my breathing and keep cooking. His voice faded away until all I could hear was Kyojuro counting breaths for me in his steady, soothing voice.

One…two, one…two…three…four…repeat.

One…two, one…two…three…four…repeat.

I set the onions in a pan with some butter to fry, covering them with the lid for a moment, and started chopping the sausage up.

One…two…three, one…two…three…four…five…six…repeat.

Over and over again.

I didn't notice my father getting up, and I did not notice him crossing the room.

"Who do you think you are, ignoring me in my own house!?"

I was too shocked by his sudden appearance to answer him.

"You little bitch!"

He moved to slap me, and I stepped back out of the way. I know stepping away only makes him angier, but my body moved before I could make myself stay still.

"I'm sorry!"

"You little bitch! Get back here!"

He grabbed my right arm, completely encircling my wrist in his hand. This was an escalation I was not used to.

"Let go of me!"

"I said go to the store, and you chose to disrespect me! In my own house! And now you're trying to give me orders! You're gonna learn today."

He forced my hand slowly towards the hot stove. I couldn't pull it away. I hit him with my left arm, then tried to use all of my body to push away from him, and away from the heat. This time the panic attack could not be stifled by breathing techniques. If I could pull my own arm off, I would do it in an instant. My chest was tight, my vision blurred, I couldn't get enough air into my lungs. Every breath was raw and tasted like iron.

"No!"

He ignored me, glared down at me, and pushed the pan off the burner with my hand. He held my hand down on the burner until it hissed. I could see the skin start to smoke.

I screamed, then blacked out.

When I awoke, who knows how long later, I was alone on the floor beside the stove. The burner was still on, but the food was never set back on it. I stood up shakily.

One…two…three, one…two…three…four…five…six…repeat.

I turned the burner off, ran my hand under the sink, and tried to gently pat it dry.

One…two…three, one…two…three…four…five…six…repeat.

It didn't look as bad as it could have. The burner was barely on for a minute before he…before it happened, and it wasn't turned up very high. The skin was going to blister, but nothing worse than that. I can handle a blister.

One…two…three, one…two…three…four…five…six…repeat.

I walked to the bathroom medicine cabinet, found some petroleum gel, and applied it.

One…two…three, one…two…three…four…five…six…repeat.

I then gently wrapped it in a loose bandage.

One…two…three, one…two…three…four…five…six…repeat.

I took a few painkillers, then returned to cooking dinner. The onions still needed to be finished, then there's the sausages…

One…two…three, one…two…three…four…five…six…repeat.