Chapter 1:
"ALISHA ANDERSON! GET YOUR LAZY ASS DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT BEFORE I BREAK YOUR PATHETIC MOTHER'S NECK!", a hoarse voice rang through the house.
I let out the Not-again-sigh, one sigh that was used rather frequently recently. He must have ran out of vodka. Third times this week. And it was only Thursday! I'm sure there would be hell to cope with.
Stepping down the stair, I saw him standing in the middle of the living room, holding a broken bottle with one hand and pulling mom's hair with the other. Even though I loved and respected mom, I can't help but pitied her. She looked so fragile crying helplessly in his hand.
"What do you want Natharn? Haven't you made enough commotion this week?", I said, voice filled with disgust. Obviously talking normally with drunken stepfather is out of my league.
All I got was a grumble in return, "Get me my vodka!"
"Sorry to tell ya but we're outta money. No more vodka this week", I shrugged.
"MAKE MONEY!", he shouted and kicked mom in the ribs. She cried out in pain, tears poured down her pale cheek. Shit! I should have talked more carefully. But today, I didn't feel like putting up with his mindless words and actions.
"Put your dirty hand away from her!", I sneered at him.
"Or what?"
Without a word, I launched at him, throwing a punch at his face. A sickening "crack" rang through the room the moment my fist made contact with his nose. I quickly jumped backward as he instinctively reached out trying to grab me. I took a quick glance at mom. She was free from his grasp but now her thin body lied motionless on the floor.
"CURSE YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BRAT!", he shouted in rage. The purplish colour that consumed his face, mixing with the red of blood from his nose, made him look like a demon from hell. His bloodshot eyes seemed like it were about to pop out of his head. At my direction he threw the broken bottle, which missed miles, then picked up a huge baseball bat, waving it around.
"Don't you dare touch me! DON'T YOU DARE!", he roared and took a step toward me. My hands shook furiously but somehow I managed to stand my ground. Suddenly, his feet got tangled up in a messy yarn basket. Thank you grandma! Natharn fell face first to the ground, the bat smacked his face, broke a tooth as a result. His arm twisted in an awkward way (I wonder how?), and a piercing howl of pain escaped his mouth. Then he stopped moving. Surely I couldn't have killed him with just a punch in the nose? Luckily his chest still moved. I took my chance, pulled mom up and dragged her outside the house, not forgetting to grab my credit card.
Mom held my arm, "Shouldn't we call him an ambulance?"
I shrugged, "He had worse days. It's not really necessary". She just sighed.
I tugged her arm impatiently, "Come on! Let's get out of here. Unless you want to go back in there to clean his bloody ass". She made a face at my choice of word, "That is so not funny Ali. But despite how much I hate to admit this, you were pretty badass in there!"
Well, that was the first time I'd seen her used a not-so-ladylike word. I stifled a laugh, "Uhm... Thanks... I guess... Anyway, let's grab some food. I'm starving!". Hesitantly, she nodded. I pulled her along.
.
On the way, I was greatful that she didn't say a word. I was still shocked! Never in my life had there been a better day! Such an ungreatful thing to say, but a Natharn with broken nose, broken tooth and broken arm, all wrapped up and delivered to me with bows and ribbons in one morning, was something beyond my expectation! Guessed it wasn't a bad way to welcome my sweet seventeenth birthday!