𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ✔️

Chapter Forty

I think I knew before I opened her front door.

I walked into a cloud of smoke and immediately began coughing, trying to waft the smoke away from my face.

Having squeezed my eyes shut, I reopened them to see Alessia's dad in front of me. I froze.

He glared at me. "Bunking school?" He asked.

I shook my head, holding my breath, "No, I told you, I'm on an exam timetable."

He laughed, right in my face. His breath smelt of alcohol and cigarettes, and as though it had not been freshened in a while. "Lies, admit it."

I stayed silent. I was not a liar, so I wouldn't 'admit it'—but I knew he would only get angry if said otherwise. So I said nothing.

"Answer me!" He screamed, lunging at me, grabbing onto my hair and shoving me back against the wall.

Honestly, with the day I had just had at school, I was done with answering. I was done with everything.

When I didn't respond, he said, "Not only are you incompetent, but you're also costing me this house," he said, anger bubbling.

I stared at him, shocked, "Me?"

"Yes you, you selfish brat." He said, before gripping onto my hair and shoving my head back against the wall. It hurt, but it wasn't the worst he'd done.

I didn't respond, which seemed to infuriate him again.

"Nothing to add, hm? Maybe it's because you know I'm right." He growled, kicking me in my shins. I couldn't suppress the yelp that burst out in response. "Yes, that's right," he said, "and you're a mistake, too," he actually wasn't making much sense, then again, he never seemed too. "A very big mistake that's going to cost me this house—all for this ugly, and worthless piece of shit," he spat.

My eyes widened. I had seen Alessia's dad be very, very physically violent, but never verbal—not as much as this. I had to wonder whether or not her incorrect perceptions of herself and her self-worth stemmed from this, as opposed to the bullying. Though, perhaps it was just a deadly mixture of both—a poison.

"When the time comes, you're going out on the streets, and if you make any money from your corner job, you bring it to me. I'll get myself sorted, and you'll remain a piece of trash that I took out a little too late." I frowned up at him, eyes watering. How could he say such things to his daughter?

I knew that my family life wasn't exactly the image of perfection—if anything, it was the farthest from it—but even my dad didn't talk to me in this way. My dad may be short-tempered and always nagging, but he always told me he loved me when he or I left, he always smiled when he saw me, and he always asked if I was okay at least once a day.

But this was not Alessia's dad.

Alessia's dad was cold; far removed. On a calm day, he would insult Alessia no more than ten times; on an angry day, he would hit her way more than ten times. He would express his hatred for her but never seemed to give reasons why. Alessia had never done anything wrong, yet suddenly she was being thrown around like she meant nothing. But she did.

It's no wonder that she's so psychologically damaged—always searching for love in places that she won't receive it.

"Get out of my sight; you make my eyes bleed." He spat, kicking Alessia in the gut, making me double over in pain.