MATTEO
A f*****g vodka bottle whacked me in the forehead as I stepped in.
What the f**k? Could I ever walk into the Moore house without my father hurling his fists or sharp objects at me? I wondered despite knowing the obvious answer; NO.
That f*****g pig.
On instinct, I lifted my hand and wiped blood off the aching spot. However, I didn’t even get to grunt in reaction to the pain before it vanished and I felt the wound instantly stitch up itself. If I wasn’t blessed with regenerative abilities, I would be covered in scars from head to toe while being raised by this abusive prick.
I darted my gaze away from the glass shards covering the floor and redirected it on him.
He was approaching me sluggishly, so it didn’t take me long to realize that he was drunk. The pompous wacko usually h
