It’s impossible for me to hide my shock, and my mouth pops open. “What do you mean, I’ll have to eat before I come home? I give you my entire paycheck every week. This is the only place I can eat. I have no money.”
A low simmering rage fills his beady eyes, and I should expect the hits and words to come, but for some reason, tonight I don’t. Maybe the shock of what he’s said has gone to my head. I don't know. But I don't see the fist flying toward my face until it’s too late.
His knuckles land against my cheek, and pain explodes across my face. Dale isn’t a big man—he’s short with a little beer belly—but he’s a man nevertheless, and his strength is far greater than mine.
I blink back the tears, mainly because crying has never made him stop. If anything, he wants my tears. He wants to see me in pain.
Grabbing me by the hair, he drags me across the kitchen. My scalp burns, and I struggle to get out of his grasp. I can feel the strands of hair being ripped from my head.
“Please, Dale, please… I'm sorry, please… I’m just hungry.” I try to reason with him, but there is no reasoning with someone who only wants to hurt you.
“You’re such a selfish bitch. A brat who only thinks of herself. You deserve to starve! Your mother and I have done more than enough for you,” he growls in my face. His breath smells like beer, and my stomach churns, acid rising up my throat at the smell.
“You should be fucking grateful we even allow you to live here. If it was my choice, you’d be on the street. Maybe then you could find a way to pay us back.”
I hear the door to the basement creak open. My scalp is screaming, and my cheek aches from his punch. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to stop myself from whimpering.
It’ll be over soon, I say to myself as he shoves me down the stairs. I land on my ass seconds before he closes the door in my face, enveloping me in the dark.