People’s parents always have days when their kid just annoys the hell out of them. A day when they’re just not in the mood and they let something negative slip, but they don’t mean it. And their kids can always tell when they don’t mean it.
They can also tell when they do mean it.
She stands in the hallway, just around the corner from her father in the next room, where he sits in the quiet and sips on a Jim Beam. It hurts so bad that there aren’t even any tears. It hurts worse than the punches to the stomach she takes. “You’re not even worth the effort I put into my fists.” he’d said.
Worthless. So maybe she’d be better off dead.
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