The Bet

Shayla paused at the front door of their brick home. Her father was home early today and it was also a day for him to buy a new case of beer. She pressed her ear lightly against the cool glass and listened intently -- silence.

Her small hand grasped the silver doorknob and she turned it slowly, hoping to slip by her father.

"Here goes nothing." She breathed, turning the handle down and stepping back. The smell of incents that were always burning greeted her with a wave of nostalgia.

"Honey, is that you?" The familiar eerie voice of her father sent uncomfortable shivers down her spine.

He appeared around the corner which led to the kitchen, beer bottle in hand, and evil thoughts publicly displayed upon his features. She stayed silent, knowing he was going to continue.

"How about you keep your old man some company?" He smiled kindly, causing Shayla to wonder if tonight was going to be a normal night. His tie was loosened around his neck along and his sleeves were rolled up. Looked like someone who wanted to relax.

"Of course." She slid her bag onto the shoe mat and casually slid her car keys into the dish on the china table that was her mother's favorite. They had painted it white, for the original oak was aging. When Shayla's parents slit her mother let her keep it.

Shayla rarely saw her mother since the divorce. Her father started developing a drinking problem in which he took out on her. Her mother tried getting custody of her daughter in the divorce but the saw her father more fit.

Shayla took a seat on their white floral couch, also her mothers, and felt a twinge of fear as he took a seat next to her.

"So tell me." He patted her thigh. "How is school going?"

She cleared her throat. "Pretty well. I don't have too stressful of classes."

She slowly inched her way from her father and felt relief that was short-lived, for he scooted closer to her - their thighs touching.

"Why so tense?" His hot breath reeked of alcohol as it hit her shoulder and she felt goosebumps rise on her soft skin. She immediately hopped up, just like she had done when Billie touched her, and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"What are you doing?" She hissed, staring down at her father. He seemed surprise, much like Billie, and she felt her eyes widen.

"What did I do wrong?" He threatened, which she knew was not a good sign.

"You're disgusting! Why would you act such a way to your own daughter?" She screamed, losing her temper. She knew better, but she couldn't help it. It felt good.

He stood up from the couch, his eyes narrowing on his daughter. She gulped as he grabbed her forearms violently.

"Don't speak to me that way, young lady! I'm your father and you will respect me." His grip tightened, cutting off her blood circulation.

"You don't deserve my respect! You do nothing but drink and hit me!" She screamed, her face turning from the impact of the blow. She heard his breath increasing and knew she had to get away before he had the chance to hit her again.

Shayla wriggled out of her fathers grasp and ran out of the room toward the staircase in the foyer. As she ascended up the steps, her father yelled obscenities her way and she quickened her pace down the hall to her room.

She was used to this routine. She locked her door and slowly backed up until the back off her knees hit her mattress. She fell backward, sighing. Her head was pounding while her cheek grew numb.

She brought her arms up in front of her as she examined her forearms. You could see his hand prints and she sighed, closing her eyes.