SLAM! “What time did I tell you to be home, Eddie?” my father screamed at me after he slammed my bedroom door shut.
“Four,” my nine-year-old self whimpered. “It was just past four. Dad, I didn’t mean…”
“Just past four? You waltzed in here at 4:15 like you owned the fucking place,” he snarled, walking toward me. He picked me up by my shirt, causing the too-tight fabric to tear. It had been two years since I’d seen new clothes. He reared back, backhanding me with his left hand. His wedding ring split my lip. He hit me again, with his fist this time. “You need to walk faster, you little worthless fucker. Perhaps I should pull you from that good-for-nothing school. You’re so dumb, Eddie. Can’t even read or write.”
“Dad, please don’t,” I sobbed as he continued assaulting me. However, his blows were on my belly, thighs and back. “I love school.”
“Then, why do your grades suck?” he snarled, throwing me across my room.