Chapter 7 07

FLORA

I pushed open the door to my room, the broken handle rattling loosely in my hand. It was cold and dread seeped into my bones. Because this gave me deja vu. Not a good one either.

The dim light from the hallway spilled in with me, cutting through the shadows of my small clustered space which was now a total horrible, familiar mess. 

My heart, which had already been racing from the long walk home and the mess in the living room, raced harder against my ribs when I saw he was still here. 

Dad was there, tearing through my things with furious, unsteady hands while muttering things under his breathe. My drawers are hung open, clothes scattered across the floor in chaotic piles, and my small desk lamp lay knocked over, casting jagged shadows on the wall. I knew all too well what he was looking for. 

Bottles and cans from the living room had made their way in here too, and now it reeked with the stench of alcohol mixed with sweat making the cramped space even more unbearable to breathe in. My stomach turn with every breath I took and I worried I might puke before I'm able to speak. 

“What are you doing in my room?” I managed, my voice shaky as I froze in the doorway. Fear clawed up my throat, making it even harder to breathe.

Dad didn’t answer right away, still muttering curses under his breath while rifling through my old school bag, papers spilling out onto the floor in a messy cascade. His movements were sloppy, drunk and unstable, his shirt stained and wrinkled from whatever bender he’d been on all day. 

Empty pockets turned inside out on my bed told me he’d already checked there, searching desperately for any money he could snatch. Again.

“Dad there's nothing in my room.” I said tiredly, tears welling up in my eyes. Dad spun around the second he noticed me standing there. His eyes were bloodshot, wild with that familiar rage that always seemed to boil just below the surface. 

He rushed over faster than I expected for someone so unsteady, his big hands grabbing my wrists in a crushing grip that sent immediate pain shooting through my arms. 

“Where’s the money, Flora? Give it to me now!” he demanded, his breath hot and sour against my face.

“I don’t have any money,” I said quickly, trying to pull back, my voice breaking with the effort. “Dad, please, let go. You’re hurting me,” I said, my words tumbling out in a desperate rush.

His grip tightened even more, fingers digging into my skin like iron bands that refused to yield. “Who do you think you're talking to. Don't lie to me, girl! You always got something tucked away. Hand it over!” he shouted, shaking me roughly back and forth as if that might loosen whatever I was hiding.

I winced, the tears spilling out now as the pain shooting up my arms increased from the pressure. “I don’t have it! I swear!” I cried out, my voice rising in panic. 

“Help! Somebody help!” I yelled, even though I knew no one in this neighborhood would come. They never came. Not when he'd throw things at me. Not when he'd lock me out. Not when I'd scream my entire life out. My yells of plea echoed uselessly in the small room, bouncing off the thin walls without any hope of rescue.

He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that sent chills down my spine and made my blood run cold. “Hiding money from your own father? You useless pig! That's what you are! Useless!” he spat on my face. 

“It hurts. Please it hurts.” I cried more hoping he'd release pressure at least a little. “I want it to hurt! You’re only valuable when you earn something, you hear me? Otherwise you’re just dead weight, eating up my space and my food!” he snarled, his face inches from mine, his eyes boring into me with pure hate and contempt.

I struggled to free myself, twisting my wrists in his hold as hard as I could. “Dad, stop! Please, I swear I don’t have anything!” I pleaded, tears starting to sting my eyes as the fear built higher.

He yanked me closer still, his grip bruising deeper into my flesh with every passing second. “Then tell me, where have you been all this time, huh? Because I know you cannot even be slutting around. No man wants your disgusting body or if not I would have sold you ages ago!” his voice kept rising with anger that seemed to fill the entire room.

“I’ve been searching for a job the whole time,” I lied, sobbing now as I kept pulling away with all my strength. “All day, I've been walking around, filling out applications. That’s it. Nothing else. Please, just let me go. I'll get the job and money too,” I said, my voice breaking under the strain.

“You think I believe that crap?” he spat, his free hand coming up fast in a blur of motion. The slap landed hard across my cheek, the sting exploding across my face and snapping my head to the side with brutal force. 

Pain bloomed hot, so hot it felt like my face was on fire, and I tasted blood where my lip split open. “Liar! You’re always lying, always hiding things from me. Useless fat pig, that’s all you are!” he shouted, his words laced with venom as he held me there.

I cried out again, the tears flowing freely now down my stinging face. “I’m not lying! I’ve been looking for work, Dad. Please, stop!” I sobbed, my voice breaking as I struggled harder, my legs feeling weak beneath me from the fear and the pain.

Still he didn’t let go and I shut my eyes praying for this to end. Instead, he tightened his hold further, his fingers pressing harder into my wrists until I thought the bones might crack under the pressure.

“You think you can deceive me! I'm smarter than you. You try to deceive you father after all I do for you?” he demanded, his voice dropping lower but somehow more threatening.

“I’m not acting like anything, Dad. I’m telling the truth. Why won't you believe me,” I said, gasping through the sobs that wracked my body. “Let me go, please. You’re really hurting me bad,” I said, my words coming out in a choked whisper.

“Truth? What do you know about truth, you little sneak?” he snarled back, giving me another rough shake that made my vision blur for a moment. “I bet you’ve been out there wasting time, pretending to look for work while I sit here with nothing. Ooohhh and its that food I see on your shirt? You lying wench!” he slapped me again. 

“Hand over whatever you got, or I’ll tear this room apart worse than I already did!” he threatened, his eyes darting around wildly as if searching for more places to destroy.

“I don’t have anything hidden! I swear on everything!” I cried out louder, twisting desperately in his grasp. “It's just a stain it's nothing Dad, please, you’re scaring me. Just stop this,” I said, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from my chest.

His laughter came again, louder and meaner this time. “Scaring you? Good! Maybe that’ll teach you not to hide stuff from your old man. Listen to me. You’re nothing without me, Flora. Nothing!” he shouted, his face twisting into a mask of rage that made my stomach drop even further.

I could feel the bruises forming already, dark and painful under his fingers, and the slap on my cheek throbbed in time with my racing pulse. Every breath I took burned with the smell of him, the alcohol, the anger. Still I was more worried about how I'd go to school with all the bruises tomorrow. I need him to stop before it gets too bad to hide. 

“Please, Dad. I’m begging you,” I pleaded again, my voice hoarse now from yelling. “I’ve been out all day trying to make things better for us. That’s all,” I said, even as the lie weighed heavy on my tongue. I was desperate now.

“Better for us? Don’t make me laugh harder,” he spat, finally loosening his hold just a fraction but not enough to free me. “You’re always thinking about yourself. Where’s my share, huh? Answer me!” he demanded, shaking me once more for emphasis.

“I told you already, there’s no share because there’s no money!” I sobbed, my entire body trembling under his assault. “You have to believe me this time. I’m not hiding anything from you,” I said, tears streaming down my face and mixing with the blood from my lip.

He stared at me for a long, tense moment, his bloodshot eyes searching my face as if he could see through the lies if he looked hard enough. The silence between his outbursts felt even more dangerous, building the suspense until I thought I might scream again just to break it. His hands remained clamped on my wrists, the pressure never fully easing but it at least wasn't digging harder in. Still I knew he would hurt me still if I slipped up.

He shook me one more time, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits as he leaned in even closer. “If I find out you’re holding out on me, there’ll be hell to pay. You owe me for everything I’ve put up with. Now get out of my sight before I really lose it!” he yelled, his breath washing over me again in another wave of sour stench.

Angrily, he shoved me back, releasing my wrists so suddenly that I stumbled against the wall. He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the frame shake violently. I heard his heavy footsteps crashing through the living room, more glass crunching under his boots, followed by a string of curses fading toward the back of the house.

I slid down the wall slowly, clutching my throbbing cheek and wrists. My whole body trembled as I sat there on the floor for a long minute, trying to catch my breath. The slap hurt alot, and the bruises on my wrists were already darkening into ugly marks. 

I wiped at my tears with the back of my hand, forcing myself to stand up despite the shaking in my legs. I sighed deeply, the sound shaky in the quiet room. “I can’t keep doing this,” I whispered to myself.

I walked over to my closet on unsteady feet, the scattered clothes crunching under my shoes with every step. I opened the door carefully, pushing aside old jackets and boxes until I reached the back shelf. My fingers found the stack of old books I used as a hiding spot. 

They were thick, dusty novels from the library sale bin that no one would bother with. I pulled one out, the cover was faded and worn, and opened it in the middle. Tucked between the pages were a few small bills and coins I had saved bit by bit for transport and emergencies. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. Hidden from him.

I counted the money quickly, my hands still shaking from the ordeal. Not enough yet, but soon. Once I collected my next pay from the Graysons, it would be time. High time I left this house for good. I couldn’t stay here waiting for nights like this anymore. 

The scholarship, the job, they were my way out. I had to make it work, no matter what.

I slipped the money back into the book and placed it carefully on the shelf, covering it with another volume just in case. The house was quiet now except for the distant sounds of Dad moving around in the kitchen, probably searching for another drink. 

I closed the closet door softly and sank onto the edge of my bed, touching my swollen cheek again. Tomorrow I’d have to hide it at school somehow, just like everything else. 

I can't be his useless pig forever. I have to leave.