Snow On The Beach | AruAni highschool fanfiction | Attack on Titan

13

~Annie's POV~

Going home is dreadful. I brace myself for the agonizing scent of alcohol as soon as I walk through the door. I expect the house to be flipped upside down by now. But instead, I find myself in a clean hallway with fresh air. I walk into the living room and that's surprisingly clean as well. My father is no where to be seen but he texted me 20 minutes ago so he surely is home. All of this feels so weird. My house is never in perfect order. It seems too good to be true. And it is. 

As soon as I enter the kitchen, the door glides back and crashes into it's frame. The exit to the kitchen is now sealed. My father stands there, right by the door, a bottle of liquor in his hand.

"What?" I turn towards him and place a hand on my lip. He's drunk. As always. 

He's staring daggers at me. I've avoided talking to my dad since that day. A part of the reason is that I don't want a repeat but another part is that I'm hurt by what he said. Although I'd never admit it, what he said about me being like my birth mother felt like my heart had been prickled with glass and stepped on. Sometimes I wonder why she left me. At times I hate her. At other times I admire her for having the courage to make such a decision. But at times like this I miss her. I wonder, had she known what kind of person I'd end up with, would she have still left me? 

The man who I call my father sips from the bottle. He looks back at me. "Do you have any idea what you've done!?" He yells. 

I stand silent. I've done plenty of things lately. But none of them revolved around him so I'm not quite sure what I've done. "No." I lean back on the counter. 

This makes him angry. "You had no business getting Karina involved with this family!" He yells. "She threw away all the alcohol and threatened to call the police." 

That explains why the house is so clean. Ms. Braun must've taken care of it. And my father must've somehow gotten his hands on more liquor. "Maybe she should." I say. This'll anger him even more, of course, but at this point, I couldn't give a shit. 

He furrows his brows and clenches his hand into a fist. "You know, if I go to jail you'll end up on the streets. This house is on my name and I can kick you out anytime I like." He's right, of course, and although I can barely survive the month with all these bills, I wouldn't be able to survive living out on the streets. That's why I haven't run away yet. As much as I would love to get away from this hell, I have no where else to go. Hitch and Ms. Braun have offered to let me stay with them for a while but I've refused. Taylor is my first priority. Hitch has a dog and Ms. Braun doesn't have the space for a cat. So, Ms. Braun must've taken things into her own hands and spoken to my dad about sobering up. This is what I feared would happen. This is why I didn't want Armin to know. Knowing him, he might try something similar. "You told her to come so you can get rid of me, didn't you?" My father asks. 

"No." My answer is blunt, honest and short. 

"You know what happens when you lie, Annie." He lifts up his hand and raises the bottle. Ms. Braun has come to our house to try and get him help multiple times. Each time, she's come with lots of hope. Each time, she'd been unsuccessful. Each time, It's ended in the same way. The bottle collides with my body, shards of glass and drops of liquor spill everywhere around me. I'm holding onto the counter with one hand. The other I'm using as a shield against the glass. I peer below my arm to make sure he doesn't throw anything else. There's nothing for him to throw. I lower my arm, letting the blood drip onto the ground. The ground is covered in pools of liquor and piles of glass. I'm shaking when I try to properly stand on my feet. I hear slow footsteps and see him coming my way.  Fear seeps over me. He's hovering above me now and I don't know what he'll do. I reach into a drawer and grab a knife. I'm not actually planning to stab him. I just wanna threaten him. He doesn't even get the chance to react to the knife -- in fact, I'm not even sure if he sees it. He grabs my neck and throws a punch my way. It targets my eye and my whole head begins to spin. It throbs. It hurts. I can't open my eye. I can't breathe. He jabs his knee into my stomach and I take another gulp of breath before my supply becomes limited again. Just when I think the pain is somewhat regaining, I feel another punch. That's when I lose it. I don't know what happens next. It's all a blur. But something must've fired inside of me because I tighten my grip on the kitchen knife and engrave it into his arm.