Fuck

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Fuck.

That's the first word that comes to my mind every morning.

Want to know why?

Well, I fucking do too.

What other reason would I have besides I'm waking up?

"Get the hell up, you lazy, worthless idiot!" Bang! Bang! Bang!

Oh. Right. Him.

"Did you here me, boy!?"

I groan and roll onto my side.

Once again, fuck.

"Do I have to fucking come in there!?"

"No!" I shout, throwing on a pair of pants and rushing towards the door hurriedly. I yank it open and I'm thrown against the wall. Fuck, his breath smells like alcohol. Again. Well, fuck. I say fuck too much. Then again, the reason why is pretty obvious. "Sir." I add quickly.

"Clean up the apartment while I'm gone, boy," Alfred spat at me, "I've got a lady friend coming over, so I expect dinner to be ready too. And you outside of course."

I nodded solemnly, his forearm pressed against my throat making anything else a struggle. Yeah, sorta hard to breathe.

"I didn't hear you," Alfred growls, slamming my head in the wall. He's always like this in the mornings. "Fucking answer me, you little –"

And therein lies the reason for my bad language.

"Yes, sir," I reply hurriedly and he grunted and lets me go. I rub my neck as he walks away, glaring at the floor in pain.

I only swear like this in my head. I don't say much out loud except 'Yes, sir', 'No, sir', and combinations of the two. Teachers effing love me. Think I'm a lazy genius or something. Lazy, ha! Well, I suppose it looks that way from their point of view since I don't really have a lot of time to do homework between chores and... physical training.

Yeah, let's call it physical training for now.

-

Oh, fu –Crap. Yeah, let's try crap. The more distinction there is between Alfred and me, the better, I think. So yeah, crap. Alfred's back early and I haven't finished cleaning the apartment. I've only got the dishes and the rest of the living room, but still, Alfred won't be pleased. When the door shuts, my entire body shudders and goes tense but still, I keep working. The punishment far worse than any small scare.

I hear the thump, thud, thump of his footsteps as he comes down the hallway to the living room. It's about two in the afternoon and since Alfred would rather buy booze than blinds, the sun is beating through the window and blinding me at certain angles. His footsteps stop as he reaches the doorway to the room.

I don't look up. I keep my eyes on the ground until he speaks to me.

He just pauses, looks at me and knocks over a glass that I haven't picked up yet. It shatters on the hardwood floor, making me wince. Loud noises and I just don't mix and he fucking knows it. Well, there goes the whole 'crap' thing. It's too much of a bother to try to break the habit. My eyes flicker to the pieces of broken glass on the floor and then to him before I quickly train them back on the ground.

Alfred glowers at me and growls, "Missed a spot."

Then he's gone, storming down the hall to his room: the last door on the right. I stay far away from that room - I think I've only been inside it once in my entire life. I continue to clean until everything's done, then I start to cook dinner. I'll clean up the glass last.

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