“At the library, huh?”

Not now, please not now.

“Hey, dad.”

“Your grades better reflect that.”

“I guarantee you they will. How was your...trip?”

“It was great. Nobody to worry about, no fuckin’ kids…”

A beer bottle is in his hand which rests upon the back of the couch, he’s facing the TV. Basketball is on and he hates basketball, further indication of how out of it he is.

I sight and drop my bag at the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah, I had to study.”

He chuckles.

“I studied once. So did your mom.”

He takes a swig of beer.

“And then we ended up with you.”

Ugh.

“Fat lotta good studying does ya.”

God I hate him.

“Dad, I need to keep my GPA up if I want to get into-“

He slams the beer down, and what little was left bubbles up and seeps into the floorboards, and he stands up.

“You’re not gonna get into college.”

I roll my eyes.

“Believe me, your failure to educate yourself isn’t hereditary.”

“Oh stop talkin’ like that!”

“Like what?”

His face is red now and my arms are flying.

“Like someone who isn’t an imbecile?”

“LIKE YOUR MOTHER.” He booms, and his words rattle through my cold bones.

I don’t look at him.

“Well, she’s better off than the both of us.”

He laughs.

“Oh stop fucking moping. For such an educated person she was a moron for going out that night!”

Don’t say anything, you’ll only make it worse.

“And she was a slut for sleeping with him! And you, Ryan...”

Dad takes another step towards me, his breath sour and his gate uneven. I stare at the floor, at the broken glass and the beer.

“Are a killer. But are you a slut, too, Ryan?”

Greengreengreen

I gulp. He moves until his lips are next to my ear.

“Are you a little slut, like your mother? Are you a moron?”

In one swift motion, my hair is in his hand and I’m forced to look at him.

Jesus, he looks like shit.

“ANSWER ME.”

I just smile, and his grip on my hair tightens. I wince in pain.

Don’t-

“Not as much as your mother was.”

Come on, that wasn’t even a good insult.

He puts a hand on my chest and slams me into the wall, and I can hear my skull smack against the peeling paint.

“You wanna try that again?”

I grin.

“Rick, my dude, you gotta come up with something better than “slut”.”

He presses my shoulders into the wall, and it’s hard to breathe. His hand closes around my neck.

“Living w-“ I wheeze.

“Living with someone who’s walking proof that contraceptives are bullshit, a slut is the last thing I’d be!”

He narrows his eyes and a rough hand swings back and collides with my cheek, knocking me to the ground.

My ears ring.

“Get up.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, thankful for the familiar creak of the front door.