Bully (In Edit)

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Holding my finger up to my lips, I pointed at the stairs, pleading inside that he wouldn't make a sound.

Hopefully the TV was loud enough to mask any small noises made.

I closed the front door silently and, walking into the kitchen, I put my bag down on the table.

Then, I called out "hi, dad! I'm home. I'm just starting to make dinner for you!"

There was no reply.

That was good, it meant he had no objections.

I started to make the filling for my dad's favourite spicy beef fajitas.

He'd never said that it was his favourite, but I could tell. When I went through to collect his plate, whenever I had made them before, there had almost been a smile on his face.

Picking out the different spices, I played with the flavouring until it was just right.

I then left the fajita mix to sizzle for a few more minutes while I heated the wraps.

Eventually, I was ready to give it to him.

I pulled down my sleeves over my aching, bruised arms and arranged my hair over my black eye, before walking into the TV room.

Placing the tray of food on the table next to my dad, I hastily backed away, before he could see anything or talk to me.

It smelt really good, but I couldn't have it. That food was solely for my dad.

I went into my little cupboard and pulled out 2 tiny, slightly stale bread rolls and some margarine.

I wasn't allowed to keep it in the fridge, so it was melted.

I looked into the cupboard, and reached right to the back, past all the things my dad had tried and didn't like, to get the tin of chicken I knew lurked at the back.

Carefully opening it, I attempted to spread the margarine, in vain, and put the artificial looking chicken inside the roll.

Grabbing 2 glasses of water and balancing them on the plates the pathetic sandwiches were on, I slowly walked up the stairs to my room.

I opened the door and walked in, looking in for Ben.

I nearly dropped the plates.

He wasn't there.