Property

Just as he unbuckled his belt, the doorbell rang. He stopped moving, and stood completely still, listening to hear if the person would ring again. After a minute of silence, he proceeded trying to forcefully sleep with me again, but then the door bell rang again, this time, more insistently. I continued crying on the floor, pinned by him, but this time, they were tears for gratuity. The heavens had heard my plea, and I was willing to go out there, and thank whosoever it was who interrupted this terrible ordeal, on my knees. He turned back to me, worry mixed with a slight fear in his beady, dark eyes. "Get the fuck up, and go upstairs, bitch. And make sure not to come downstairs until you hear the front door close. If you do, so as much, appear to the person at the door, I will make sure you regret it. Now carry these bottles, and fuck off." He commanded me, his voice low, yet still very threatening to my ears. Not wanting to waste any more time, I quickly pick the bottles from t

I stood in the kitchen, dicing some vegetables for the food I was cooking for dinner. I had gotten my first pay just yesterday, and used a small amount for the groceries we needed at home. Everything has just been so strange these past few days. It was nearly as if a magical wand had touched my step father. Suddenly, he was in such a good mood, that he was almost never at home, and when he was, he sat down in the garage welding for people, while humming some Korean old songs. Truth be told, I was slightly scared. He wasn't generally in this much of a good mood, talk less of sober. Come to think about it, I thought to myself, all of this strange behavior started two weeks ago, after aunt Tara had left. He had been smiling like he knew a secret that no one else except him new, and looked at me in a way that made me feel so uncomfortable. I guess I should be thankful though; he hadn't beaten me, or touched me in any way since then, which was actually great. My skin was nearly totally