Here comes the reality of my family dynamic. I slowly made my way to the kitchen. My siblings were in their rooms and my mom was probably in the shower. My dad was leaning against the kitchen counter like he’d been waiting for ages.
“Are you going to tell me why you brought him here without permission?” He crossed his arms.
“I’m sorry.” I said quietly
“What was that?”
“I said I’m sorry.” I spoke up.
“You better be sorry. Next time, I won’t be so forgiving.” He said, walking towards me. I closed my eyes tightly, waiting for the first blow. I slowly peaked my eyes open when he chuckled. “Are you finally frightened sweetheart?” He traced his finger over the scar on my cheek.
“No.” I looked him dead in the eye.
“Good.” He swiftly punched my gut. “Next time the consequences will be dire.” I sank to my knees, clenching my stomach. I truly was scared of my dad. I just didn’t want to admit it.
“And you better get an A on that test next week.” He yells from down the hall. I sighed and forced myself to stand. I hobbled up the stairs to my room and locked the door behind me. I grabbed my clothes and doddered to the shower. I turned on as hot as I could stand it and hopped in. A shower had never felt better. I soaked under the hot water until it ran cold, then I got out of the shower and wrapped my towel around me. I walked to my bed and layed down. I closed my eyes for a moment, still in my towel. Suddenly, exhaustion swept over me like a blanket and I fell asleep.
I startled awake to a pounding on my door. I sat up in my towel and rushed to the door.
“Who is it?” I called.
“Hurry up.” My dad replied. “You’re going to be late for school.” I rolled my eyes and dragged myself out of bed. I walked to my closet and picked out a cute outfit. I don’t know why, but I feel like dressing up a little. I chose a cute skirt with a belt and an oversized sweater. I had my purse slung over my shoulder and my backpack in my hand.
I applied a little make up and checked myself in the mirror before walking out of my room. I walked downstairs and my dad stopped me in the living room.
“What are you wearing?” He looked at me judgmentally. “You look like a two year old.” He held back laughter. Ouch. I looked away from him as my eyes filled with tears. Maybe this was a mistake. “You sure you want your boyfriend to see you like that. You look ridiculous.” His biting words wounded me.
“Y-yeah.” I said uncertainly.
“Well, you do you.” He said, handing me a granola bar. I snatched it from his hand and walked out the door. My siblings were probably still asleep and my mom was at work. I slowly trudged towards school with my head hung low. Why did I choose to wear this? I probably look stupid.