I Never Wanted to Destroy Your Beauty

I drove home slowly. I always feel like walking really slowly after school instead of driving, but the last time I left my truck at home my dad took a bat and hit my tail lights, and since I didn't have a job then, I had to dip into my saved up collage money from when I was little. I didn't have much in there, enough for a cheep school but nothing more. I try to add money in there from time to time.
It always seemed to take me less time to get home then to get to school. I pulled into my driveway and sat in my truck for a few minutes before getting out and walking up the pathway to my nice looking house. It wasn't so nice on the inside. I tried to clean up as much as I could without bothering my dad, but he always seemed to be annoyed.
I opened the door slowly and quietly and shut it just the same. Nothing. I looked around the room, and I didn't move makig sure to stay in the same place I was in. I couldn't hear anything at all, not the sink running or my dad snoring, or the sound of alchohal being drank straight from the glass bottle. It was a new sound to me and something told me that nothing good could come from it.
I decided that standing infront of my door wasn't going to do much and that I should probably head up to my room. So that's what I did, making sure to check the visible parts of my house for my dad. I couldn't find him, and I was glad for the tiny bit of freedom and the feeling of relief in my own house.
It wasn't until I had arrived to my room that I had descovered where my dad was. He was downstairs, but not in the house. I stared out the window that viewed all of my backyard. It was odd to see my dad out there, it was my moms place down there and he hasn't ever stepped out there since she died.
He wasn't doing anything except sitting in the lawn chair with his bottle in hand. His drinking seemed to get worse everyday, and I was getting worried about him, but I learned long ago that it was better off for both of us if I just left him alone.
I stared at him for a few minutes in amazement, and then I watched him get up and come into the house. I heard the door shut behind him and I heard him pick something up off of the table downstairs, and then I heard his loud foot steps stomp up the stairs and this time I saw him walk into my room with a big metel bar in his hand with the end of it burned. I didn't know if the burn was new, on purpose, to hurt me or if it just happened to be on the bar. I guess i'm about to find out.
I watched my dad become an even bigger monster then he had been and raise the metal bar he held, and then I shut my eyes tight and thought about all of the good times we used to share when my mom was alive, waiting to feel the bar touch my skin in the most brutal way.
"I never wanted to destroy your beauty, but you don't deserve it." The one sentence that always came before the pain. It was the one sentence I hate and the one sentence that I will never forget the words too. He said it the same way everytime. I was a dissapointment to him and he let me know it everyday. I did a good job at covering it up at school and anywhere outside my house.
I felt the stick hit my arm once, twice, three times and then move to my leg and hit me once, twice, three, four times. And I cried out in pain. I found out the stick was burned on purpose that my dad had gone to deeper levels then before. He was angry and I had to suffer for it. I don't know what else I'm supposed to do.
I kept my eyes closed, as I heard him leave the room and his heavy footsteps walk down the stairs. And I opened my eyes when I knew he was gone and got up and closed my door barely makeing it back to my bed before bursting into tears. The extreme pain always came two seconds after and I looked at my bear arm and my torn jeans. I was bleading, and I was hurt and I was scared.