My eyes are starting to adjust to the darkness. I lean against my bed and wince as the frame bites into my back.
Another knock sounds at my door. I roll my eyes.
“Emily, are you ready to come out?” Dad asks from the other side.
I ignore him. I pick the nail polish off my thumb.
Rattle, rattle, rattle. “Emily! Open the door!”
“Nope, I won’t.” I say back.
“EMILY CHRISTINE HARRISON!” He bellows. The raging bull charges after my door, a silky red flag.
Silence is his answer. I shrink against my bed.
“Emily, you are spinning out of control!” He rages
.
“What the hell are you going to do about it?” I retort. “You haven’t been doing much for the past month… so, what makes you think that things will change now that you’re mad?”
He scowls. “You’re such an ungrateful bitch!”
I roll my eyes. “Wow, that’s the best thing you can come up with?”
I hear a dramatic sigh. I’m feeding the kindling in the fire, but I don’t plan on stopping.
“Come out here, now!” He growls.
I am tempted to yell back. When I was little, the mad-daddy voice scared me, but now it just makes me vicious.
“No, you can’t make me.” I snap.
“Yes I can, young lady!” The dragon rages.
“Whatever!”
He beats my door again, and again, and again. “Fuck!”
“Aw, did you hurt yourself?” I taunt.
“Emily, do you know what’ll happen if you don’t snap the hell out of this?”
“Nope, I don’t.” I reply, a sensation of fear suddenly boiling in the pit of my stomach.
“If you don’t snap out of it,” he growls. “You’ll end up like your god damned mother!”
“Oh yeah, and it’s not like you’ll do anything to stop me.”
“Young la-” He chokes on his own words.
I wait, and count in my head, until he finally gives up and goes downstairs.
Minutes later, I hear the unmistakable smash of breaking glass.
