Chapter 17

I started the next morning with a big smile on my face. Last night had been so much fun, laughing and joking with my brother, actually reminiscing about mum without him getting angry at me. I get dressed and rush downstairs, stopping in my tracks as I spot my father waiting for me. I glance upwards hoping to see Damien but there’s no sign of him and I hesitate, wondering if I should call out for help. But it was also possible that Damien had left for school already, in which case, I was on my own anyway.

My father’s beady little eyes rest on me and I flinch, smelling his breath and the beer from here. It’s repulsive,

almost as though he’s bathed in it. I stop on the steps, too frightened to make a move, but to my surprise, my father gives me a smile that instantly makes me suspicious. Why was he suddenly in a good mood? Had he maybe gotten another job already? Normally it took him weeks though. Even then, he never smiled at me. My stomach churns with dread.

“Winter” my father says heartily, and I eye him suspiciously.

“Yes” I say quietly, my feet still firmly rooted to the ground, my body beginning to tremble in fear. Something was.

He was acting too strange for my liking.

“You look pale” he says, and I place a hand on my cheek. It’s true that I’m pale, but then, other than walking to school and back, I don’t really see much sunlight. So being pale was normal for me, not that he’d notice, of course. Or it could be because it felt like all the blood had drained out of my face the second I saw he was home.

He comes closer and I instinctively flinch, raising my arm as though to shield off a hit that I suspect is coming.

Instead, nothing happens and I place my arm back down, to see a wounded expression on my father’s face.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you” he says quietly, and I want so badly to believe him, but nothing on this god-green

is what he

I exhale, cautiously moving one

my heart thudding loudly and quickly in my chest. I wish Damien was here, at least

gag as I smelled his breath, saying nothing and

he wants me to prepare breakfast, but to my surprise, he places his hands on my shoulders and forces me to

and I’m stunned. Had father had a change of mind and decided he was going to stop abusing me? What had brought this on?

at the table. I feel uncomfortable, awkward even. This is the most I’ve ever spoken to him in who knows how long and I’m not quite sure what to

the toast and coffee in front of me, I inhale deeply, appreciating the strong aroma, giving father

peanut butter on it but he’d cut it into triangles, the way I’d liked to

missed a day of school in my life. Not only that, but

coffee “I can’t afford to miss any classes” I add and tense waiting for him to explode. Instead, he just regards

imagination or was father looking slightly fuzzy? I shake my head, putting it down

body feeling relaxed. My father looks calm. “I’m afraid the school isn’t

advise them your sick and

that” I say slowly, my mouth

elsewhere” he says quietly and my jaw drops open. I make an attempt to stand but

to cooperate with me and I stare at my father, realizing that he’s laced my drink with some sort of drug. It’s the only explanation I can think of as the room starts to spin around

as he comes over to me, my body sliding out

my father for a moment. I should have instantly known something

had he drugged

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