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Author's Note:
This is to my #WattpadSister, @Hawtrod Hope you love it and hope you all like it. Oh and once you get to the scene I would recommend listening to the song on the right "Not Gonna Die" by Skillet. Vote and comment down below. Also PM me any requests for one shots.
Stay Strong <3
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“Christyna! You Bitch!” yelled my dad.
It was a typical night at the Harold household. I hadn’t filled in the stupid dishwasher as perfect as he wanted me to have it done as. Mom had died years ago, while giving my birth to me. Since then, he’s blamed me for my mother’s death.
“You stupid, murderer Come over here!”
I snuck under the table. He was drunk as hell and throwing kitchenware and utensils off the kitchen counter. I held in my breath as he picked up a sharp knife. He walked slowly but sloppily until he reached the table. He slowly ducked under the table and he looked at me straight in the eye with his bloodshot red eyes.
“You think you can’t hide from me bitch!” He sneered.
I let out a small whimper.
“I’m sorry dad.”
“SHUT UP! DON’T TALK BACK TO ME!”
He dead lifted the table off as all the glass shattered. I couldn’t scream because shit had just gotten serious. He grabbed the knife and pinned me down. Hatred filled his eyes.
“You look exactly like her.”
He felt my skin with the blade of the knife.
“Why did you kill her?”
He swung the knife and almost stabbed me beside my eye. I squirmed as much as I could to get out of my dad’s grip. How much I hated the word dad, and just men and dad’s in general. He swung the knife with full force again, this time it cut sharply above my cheek and underneath my eye. I couldn’t die today. I knocked the knife into the next room and began hand to hand combat.
We lived in the middle of Los Angeles, but our neighbors are music junkies and part animals. They wouldn’t hear us fighting. I threw a weak punch at his arms, but that angered him more and he formed a large fist which collided with my cheek. I let out a gasp of air. He sneered knowing he was winning. I took a blow in my stomach which sent me flying to the other end of the kitchen. My stomach hurt bad as I bent over trying to make the pain go away.
He took another swig of vodka and left the fridge open. He charged at me again and I slid under his legs to get to the fridge. He stood there for a second, caught off guard. He turned around redder than a tomato that’s about to burst. I grabbed the crate of eggs and egged him in the face to buy some time. He pushed the yolk away from his eyes and mouth. He picked up a frying pan and threw it in my direction. I jumped quickly to the other side as the frying pan chipped a large piece of granite off the counter. My mother had picked out the counter before I was born and since it just broke, it pissed him off even more. He grabbed the hunting knife, and began staggering over to me.
‘Shit!’ I thought.
I scanned the fridge as quick as I could and my eyes landed on the watermelon. Adrenaline ripped through me as I picked up the watermelon. He dangerously walked over to me.
“I’m sorry dad. Goodbye.”
I threw the watermelon and in slow mo it collided with his face causing a loud crunching sound. He toppled over; the knife dropped on to his feet as he fell and the watermelon shattered leaving red pulp all over the kitchen. I walked over to my dad to check if he’s still breathing. He was breathing short shallow breaths. The smell of vodka took over and I walked to my room.
