I snuck back into my apartment through the window and crept into my room. I looked at the stain from the broken beer bottle on the floor of the living room. I remembered what had happened in a flash-yelling-the bottle was flying-he thrust out his hands-that tingle-that wonderful exhilaration-the horror. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the memory.
however, I didn't have time to decide seeing how my step dad walked into the room.
i furrowed my brow, "what do you want?"
he smirked "other than your head on a platter? Oh just for you to get out within the next five seconds."
my jaw dropped, "what?"
his smirk disappeared, "you heard me! Get out of my house!"
my face went red, "you-you can't do that!"
he grinned wickedly, "can't I?" He paused, pretending to look at his watch, "oophs! Times up, get out!"
I didn't move. he stomped towards NRA and grabbed my shirt collar, I could smell his breath, I nearly gagged.
"Let go of me!" I kicked and struggled, but drunk as he was, he was determined. He grabbed my head and slammed it into the window, the glass shattered, cutting my face. Using both feet I kicked off his chest. The feeling, the rush-came back and slammed him through the opposite wall. I flew out the window and landed in the next door buildings fire escape. I hopped down and ran, colwiring stinging my face. I had to get away from him, maybe from myself