The slap of the belt on his back made him scream. Before he could recover, the leather went back to batter the red flesh.
“When I tell you to obey, you obey! Do you understand?” the disembodied voice roared.
He heard the sound of a zipper, and he knew that he must do something. The pen that he had been using to scribble on a sheet of paper on the floor would come in handy. He was barely over five feet tall then, but he saw himself lunge at the man. The man was scrawny and was only about a little over half a foot taller. So, the pen connected with the man’s neck. It did not go in as deep as he thought it would, but there was enough blood and pain to create a distraction.
He ran and ran.
When his mother got home that night, blood was on the floor, and the man was not there anymore. She
