CHAPTER 5
1532 Words
And somehow, that made everything feel even worse.
I forced myself to step inside, even though every part of me wanted to stay out there and pretend I never came back at all. I stood frozen on the glossy floor, completely soaked, water dripping from my clothes while the wind pushed the door shut behind me with a heavy click.
If he hadn’t noticed me before, he definitely did now.
His colleagues slowly turned their heads toward me, their conversation fading out like it had never mattered in the first place. The room fell into that horrible kind of silence that somehow made every little sound louder.
I just stood there, frozen, eyes wide like I’d been caught in headlights and my brain had stopped working properly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mom stepping out of the kitchen.
For a second, relief flashed across her face, like she was just happy I made it home safely.
But it disappeared almost instantly.
Like someone flipped a switch.
The relief turned into fear the moment she really looked at me.
And then my attention shifted back to him.
He was already standing.
Slowly.
Calmly.
Like he had all the time in the world.
The whiskey glass was still in his hand.
Everything happened so fast I barely processed it.
One second he was standing there, and the next he had turned and thrown the glass directly at me.
I dropped instantly.
The glass smashed against the wall behind me instead, exploding into sharp shards that scattered across the floor with a violent crash that echoed through the room.
A soft gasp followed right after, and I didn’t even need to look to know it came from my mom.
I stayed crouched there for a second, completely frozen, waiting for my body to catch up with what had almost happened.
My breathing felt trapped in my chest as I slowly forced myself back up, careful not to step on the broken glass.
My eyes stayed glued to the floor.
Click.
Click.
Click.
His expensive shoes hit the wooden floor one slow step at a time as he got closer.
"You're late."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
The kind of calm that made everything worse instead of better.
I didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
I just stood there like my body had forgotten how to function, my feet rooted to the floor like they didn’t belong to me anymore.
My lips pressed together painfully tight because I knew better than to answer the wrong way.
"Why?" he snapped suddenly, and I flinched so hard my whole body jerked.
When I looked up, he was already standing only a few feet away from me.
His posture looked almost relaxed, like nothing was wrong at all, but his face told a completely different story.
There was something dark in his expression. Something angry enough to make my stomach twist instantly, so I lowered my gaze back to the wet floor beneath my shoes.
"A few people in my math class didn’t finish their homework, so we all had to stay behind until they completed it," I explained quickly before automatically adding, "Sir."
Even now, saying it still felt humiliating.
But somewhere along the way, it became instinct.
Say Sir.
Stay quiet.
Don’t make things worse.
Don’t attract attention.
"Did you do yours?" he asked.
His shoes stepped closer into my line of sight, and I had to force myself not to move backward.
I nodded quickly.
From the corner of my eye, I could still feel his colleagues watching from the sofa.
Not speaking.
Not interfering.
Just sitting there like this was normal entertainment.
It made my skin crawl.
Like I was some kind of performance they didn’t feel the need to stop.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked again, his voice sharper now.
And immediately, I knew I messed up.
"Yes, sir," I corrected softly.
The second the words left my mouth, everything exploded.
A sharp cry escaped me when his hand struck my face hard enough to throw me straight onto the floor.
My backpack slammed painfully against my back as I fell, pain shooting through my spine instantly.
I bit down hard on my lip to stop myself from making more noise, tasting blood almost immediately because I already knew better than to react too much.
My cheek burned violently, the sting deepening into something heavier and worse.
"Get up," he growled.
Slowly, I forced myself upright, sitting first while keeping my head lowered even though my vision felt strange, like the hit had knocked something loose inside my skull.
Everything hurt.
But I didn’t have time to think about it.
An irritated sound left him before he grabbed the strap of my backpack and yanked me upward without warning.
The straps dug painfully into my shoulders and arms as I was dragged back to my feet, the force jolting through my entire body again.
I swayed unsteadily where I stood, the ringing in my ears growing louder with every second like my brain couldn’t process anything properly anymore.
My soaked clothes clung tightly to me in a way that felt suffocating.
Cold was beginning to sink into my body too, making my teeth chatter uncontrollably.
I barely had a second to recover before he slammed me back against the wall.
The impact knocked the air straight out of my lungs, leaving me gasping desperately.
Before I could breathe properly again, his hand closed around my throat.
My body jerked instantly as he tightened his grip, cutting off what little air I had left while lifting me high enough that my feet barely touched the ground anymore.
My eyes shot upward in panic.
And I saw it.
The same green eyes staring back at me.
The same ones I hated seeing in the mirror.
That somehow made everything worse.
My hands flew up immediately, clawing at his wrist as I desperately tried to pry him off.
My nails scratched deep enough to break skin, but he didn’t even flinch.
Like pain simply didn’t affect him.
"I don’t appreciate you walking in here late looking like some kind of wild animal," he hissed directly into my face while I struggled to breathe.
My chest burned violently now, my lungs screaming for air.
"You embarrassed me in front of my colleagues, your mother, and yourself."
My legs kicked out wildly, trying to hit anything that might make him let go.
And over his shoulder, I saw them.
His colleagues.
Standing now with drinks still in their hands, watching everything unfold like it was some kind of twisted entertainment.
Some of them were smiling.
Like this meant absolutely nothing.
A broken sound came from behind them, and I turned just enough to see my mom stepping forward slowly, tears running down her face while one hand covered her mouth like she was trying not to completely fall apart.
I shook my head at her desperately, silently begging her not to come closer.
My vision blurred.
Dark spots crept into the edges of my sight while my body kept struggling automatically, driven by pure instinct now.
The ringing in my ears grew louder.
Everything felt distant.
"Roger, let her go! You’re killing her!" my mom screamed.
I didn’t know if she meant to say it like that, but those words were what finally stopped him.
Or maybe he simply got bored.
Either way, his grip suddenly disappeared.
I collapsed hard onto the floor, gasping violently while my forehead slammed against the wood beneath me.
My body curled inward immediately as my hands flew to my throat.
It hurt to breathe.
It hurt to exist.
Tears kept falling endlessly like my body no longer knew how to stop.
I knew he hated me.
But I never thought he would actually go that far.
The look in his eyes while I struggled…
It wasn’t just anger.
It was something worse.
Something terrifying.
Like he enjoyed having complete control over me.
Like my fear made him feel powerful.
And that was the scariest part of all.
"Get out of my sight," he spat.
Before I could even fully process the words, his foot slammed into my stomach.
A silent scream ripped through me as my body folded inward instantly.
I didn’t wait.
I couldn’t.
I forced myself up on shaking legs and ran.
I didn’t look back.
I just made it to the spiral staircase and ran up as fast as I could, taking the steps two at a time even though every movement hurt.
Even though my bruised body and soaked clothes made everything harder.
By the time I reached my room, I could barely breathe properly anymore.
I slammed the door shut behind me before collapsing onto the floor right there.
I didn’t care that I was still drenched.
I didn’t care that my backpack was still hanging off my shoulders.
None of it mattered anymore.
The only thing I could feel was the darkness slowly pulling me under, dragging me away from everything for a little while.
From him.
From this house.
From this life.
From everything.
And him…
He was my father.
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