Fury of the broken mate

TAYLOR’S POV

 “Taylor!!!” The pique sound of my father’s voice resonated through my room. I stirred awake, sweat breaking profusely as I set my feet on the cold floor and stood from my squeaky bed. Just then, the door bursts open, its hinges cracking as it hits the wooden surface.

“You malignant little twat!’’ he clenches his fist, two big steps forward, and he has me in his grasp. His fingers circle my throat as he brings me to the wall.

 “How many fucking times have I told you that I want no dirty dishes in the sink?”

“B…but I cleaned…” Thwart! The slap resounds as I feel the stinging pain in my cheek. His hand does not leave my neck, and neither does the grazed look of hatred he gives me.

I don't understand, I cleaned those dishes…unless of course, he left them again last night in his drunken haze. Reminding him would only cause me more pain, I struggled against his hands.

Trying to break free before I suffocate. As if on cue, my father releases me and I fall to the floor. He sends a kick towards my stomach, leaving me in pain as I crutch my side.

“Good for nothing…’’ he spits.

 “Useless! If your sister never died, maybe I would have a better family than you!’’ There it was! The words he would always recite. The names he would call me.

It’s been almost 13 years since the death of my older sister. And a whopping 10 years since my father killed my mother.

Death was the closest, most merciful thing she got. After years of torture under my father’s wing. He sends a fist to my face, knocking me back and giving me no moment to breathe.

Another blow to my already pained stomach. I struggle to sit up, I feel the blood oozing profusely from my mouth. I was not shocked. I had become accustomed to pain so much that it became my only friend.

Suddenly, my father’s fingers dive into my hair, and he grips with pressure. I let out a hiss, forced to look up at him as he dragged me out of the room. Tears cascade down my cheeks, the pain in my body does not stop.

The wounds from yesterday’s beating were still so fresh. And now father was adding insult to injury. He drags me down the stairs effortlessly.

 “Father, please…’’ I beg.

 “That’s right, girl, beg. That is all you know how to do.