He grabs my upper arm and spins me to face him.
“Are you fucking her?” he spits, shocking me rigid. “Is that where you spent the night?”
Where the hell did this come from? Why would this be the direction his mind goes in? “She’s married, Dad! I slept outside the front door, like I always do when…” I stop myself from sayingwhen you throw a fit it, but I’m already too late.
“When what?” He shakes me by the arm, gripping so tight I feel the bruises forming already.
“When I mess up. I’m sorry.” I keep my eyes downcast and hope he buys it. Rather than the placation I’m hoping for, I only seem to rile him more.
“That’s all I hear out of your mouth.I’m sorry.I’m sorry. If you weresorry, you wouldn’t fuck everything up now, would you?”
“I…” He grins at me, daring me to say sorry again. I don’t say anything. I drop my eyes to the floor and do my best to shrink as small as I can get while he shoves me around like a limp puppet.
“How’d you pay for it, hmm?” He turns me so fast I hit off the counter and the yogurt pots go tumbling to the floor.
“It didn’t cost anything, I swear.”
“Liar! Did you suck off that bitch’s fucking animal of a husband? Did you whore yourself for food like the pathetic slut you are?”
“Dad! The kids can hear you. Please…”
“Fucking pathetic piece of shit. Worthless slut. I’d be better sending you to Hanson’s. You’re already earning shit on your back; I might as well make money off your no-good whoring cunt.” One of the yoghurt pots falls victim to the underside of his boot. With a pop, the innards splat across the floor.
“I’m not…I’d never…” I stutter.
Wait, why are his boots already on? He’s still in his pyjama pants, but he bothered to put on boots? Jesus, I’m not getting out of this one without a punishment. He would probably have picked a fight even if I came home with a bottle of whisky and a handful of cash for him.
“You’ll do what I say.”
“Dad…please. I got the food for free,” I insist, still careful to only use the truth.
“Liar. Nothing comes for free.”
Don’t I know it. I’m paying for Dax’s gift now. “Fine! Fine…you’re right, it wasn’t free. I stole it. Like I stole the pie you ate for dinner last night.”
“And you’re telling me those freaks didn’t see you walk out with bags of groceries? Do you think I’m a fool?” His open palm meets my cheek in a loud clash of flesh and pain.
“No…no. I…I…took money…I took money from the till, then bought the food with it.”
“Does your fucking mother know she raised a thief and a liar?”
I stay silent. He doesn’t appreciate it. He prefers I fight back and bring him to the peak of rage. My silence only makes him work harder to wind himself up.
I’m jerked off my feet with a tug and thrown through the kitchen doorway to land in the living room, sprawled at the foot ofhis chair. The kids are watching me from their bedroom doorway as I scramble to my knees. I widen my eyes at them, hoping they understand my unspoken message. Hoping they close the door and stay silent.
“The next time you put your hand in a till, you’d better bring me the cash. That’smymoney you’re wasting. I own you and everything you earn is mine!” He builds himself into a temper, working himself up and up until something has to break. Probably me.
He storms into the kitchen. “And THIS…” he yells. “This shit…” He throws the milk carton across the living room where it hits the far wall and explodes, showering everything in pools of white. “…is never…” Six large eggs splat across the floor at various spots. “…to enter my house…” Yogurts follow as he kicks them across the floor into walls and doors. “…without my say so…” He tips out the bread and stomps over the slices that land on his feet as he pitches oranges and apples at my head. “…ever again!”
My hands hurt from the accuracy of his drunken throws. My right ear rings where an apple slips between my arms to smack me dead-on my earlobe.
“Now clean this shithole. My house was tidy before you came home and fucked it up.”
I leap to my feet, staggering a little with how my head swings one way and my stomach another, then dash to the kitchen, edging around him. I know what’s coming even before he does it. He fills as much of the doorway as he can, so that I’ll need to squeeze by him. As soon as I’m almost by, he shoves me hard into the door, the back of my head smacking the wood, and grabs me roughly by the throat. He squeezes enough to stop me breathing…enough to induce fear, which he feeds off mercilessly.
“And if I ever catch you stealing from me again. I’ll fucking cut you up, Juliet. I’ll make those brats watch so they’ll never make the same fucking mistakes as you. You hear me?”
“Y…yes.”
