The Walking Dead

Chp. 2

The skies grew dark, headlights and streetlights turned on as evening fell. I was returning home from the store. I walked past drunken perverts who gave high pitched whistles as I strolled past.

I felt a hand slap my ass and stopped in my tracks. I looked at the man who barely had hair on his head, the few left had turned grey. He had a bottle half full in hand and a belly probably from his excessive drinking. He raised his brows and smirked.

I sighed and continued with my journey. I got to my flat, I greeted the security guard and made my way up the stairs. Walking past a drunk who slumbered in his corner. I got to my front door taking out my keys. Just as I was about to plug the key in the keyhole, the door flew open.

I froze in fear as I registered who stood before me. My eyes widened and before I knew it I was dragged inside by my hair. The door being shut behind me. I was thrown on the floor and his angry voice filled the room.

"Where were you?!"

"I can explain...dad-" I tried to explain once I sat up, only to receive a slap across the face.

"Don't call me that!"He pulled me to my feet by my hair and dragged me to the living room, dropping me on the couch. I looked up to see him unbuckling his belt. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.

"What did I tell you about going out after sunset?!" his voice filled the room once more.

"I just-" before I knew it he was on top of me, his hands around my neck. "I just wanted to-" I felt as his grip around my neck tightened. At that point I couldn't hold in the tears as my air supply was cut off.

"I'm on my period!!" I burst out.

He got off of me but I didn't dare move a muscle.He stood there and I could feel his eyes on me, tearing through my flesh to find my soul and search it for any sign of untruth. I could hear him breathing, he wasn't breathless, he was angry.

"Get up!!"

Without a second wasted i scrambled to my feet and stood before him. Head down, eyes to the floor, hands in front of me. Fear traveling throughout, my legs felt weak, my knees unable to support my little weight and my fingers fiddling.

"Get out of my sight!"

I still stood there, paralyzed in fear.

"Now!!"

I quickly went to grab the plastic bag I had dropped by the door and shuffled nervously to my room. I got changed and lay on my bed staring at the curtains. Tears slowly began to trickle down my face.

I'm sure you're probably confused as to what just happened. My father was just about to rape me, again, because I needed to be punished. My crime? Going out after sunset, he says I should never be anywhere but home after sunset or he's going to assume I have a boyfriend.

I'm sixteen years of age, yes, having a boyfriend is completely normal here but he just wants his personal prostitute all to himself.

This man I live with isn't my dad. When my mother died, my dad died with her. This man, I dwell with, is not my dad. Dads don't forget their daughter's name. He is not my father, he's a stranger.

When my mother died, my aunt, her sister, took me in for a few months but when I returned to live with him, he had changed. He was always busy with his new job, he never talked to me, he never looked at me, it was as if I was invisible to him, I didn't understand why.

One day he had returned late at night with a large sports bag in hand. I was curious to find out what was inside. So when he went to his room he left the door slightly opened so I took a peek inside. He emptied the bag and small packs, almost sachets, of a yellowish brownish substance flooded his bed.