Disappear.

-1-

I glared down at the table, refusing to face the man standing before me. I refused to let him see my fear, to let him know that he was already winning. He was angry with me, once again for something I apparently didn't do.

It was a night in which he resorted to merely verbal punishment. I was thankful that he had yet to raise that wicked fist.

Compared to him, I was weak. I couldn't beat him even if I tried and trust me I had tried. The results of that failed attempt were written all across my body. He let me go to my room after a quick lecture about how the house is meant to be spotless and a smack to my cheek, leaving me to let out a sigh of relief. At least he was done for the night.

~

I got up several hours before he did, knowing that he would want breakfast and coffee immediately, but also knowing that I had to have the time to prepare my own self. I showered and put on the usual cover up, not being able to completely hide all of the bruised that decorated my face.

My eyes were dull, almost lifeless. If anyone was to actually pay attention to my appearance, they would suspect something but thankfully no one did that.

I got his coffee ready first, putting it in the microwave so it would still be warm for him when he came down. I put a bottle of liquor on the counter in plain sight so he would know that i did indeed manage to sneak some from a random bar, seeing as we didn't actually have any money. It was surprising that we even still had a roof over our heads, I doubt he knew about the pile of bills that had been growing on the table over the past couple of months.

I began making his food, not bothering to make any for myself. He surely would be angry if I dared to 'waste' his money. I placed the plate on the table and then froze once I heard his heavy footsteps upon the stairs. I quickly got the coffee out of the microwave and put it next to his plate. I then sat down on the only other chair and staired straight at the tablecloth, not wanting to disrespect him by making eye contact.

I heard him sit down heavily upon the chair and pick up his fork. I could feel him looking at me, checking my choice of clothes. He never wanted me to show my skin and let people see what he had created, so I carefully had chosen a baggy sweater that went almost to my knees with some jeans. The sleeves were far too long but it just helped cover any possible bruise on my arms.

"Do you want me to drop you off or do you want the bus to take you?" Everyday he asked me the same question and everyday I was expected to give the same response. There was one time that I had said that I wanted to take the bus and he clearly didn't want that and I certainly knew never to say it again. One time was all it took.

He didn't want the possibility of me talking to other people, telling them what happened behind everyone's back. That would ruin him and he knew it.

"You." I stated simply and I glanced up to see him nodding with an evil look.

Soon enough he was finished and it was nearly time for us to go. He didn't bother changing, leaving him in some grubby jeans and a ripped shirt. He shooed me out the door and slammed it shut behind us. I felt his hand on my shoulder shoving me forwards, nearly making me fall. I mentally rolled my eyes, not wanting to risk the chance of him seeing it.

I got into the car and waited for him to do the same. The ride was short and silent, a tense and uncomfortable feeling was firmly settled upon me.

"You know the rules." He stated as we came to a stop.

"Don't speak to anyone, don't let anyone close enough to see any bruises. Don't raise my hand and don't spend any money."

"Good job Zeiden. You finally are learning where you stand." He unlocked the doors. "Now be a good boy and run along."