Mein Kampf as a Teenage Outcast

I threw my phone across the couch and flopped into the cushions. I hate how he always inexplicitly hangs up whenever I call. I mean, I know we've been friends since we were twelve, but sometimes I wonder if he's gotten tired of me. It's not that I have some sort of ridiculous stalker crush on him, but I can't find anyone better to talk to most of the time.

I pulled the book out of my backpack. Alrighty, page one. Page one. Page one.

I threw the book to the floor and reached for the remote. Geez, that sort of crap is what the internet is for; making my life easier. I was checking out the cartoon channels when in walked Dad. Lovely.

"Hey, I need you to start cooking up some pizza or something. I'm having my buddies come over tonight." he informed me. I groaned involuntarily. "Oh, stop bitching. The guys love you!"

"Yeah, I'd prefer if they didn't, though." I said.

"I don't care what you'd prefer. Now go start cooking. They'll be here in an hour." he said, nudging my shoulder from behind the couch to make me get up. God, can't he just lock me in my room tonight?

Sure enough, an hour later, the house was consumed by smoke and overpowered with the scent of booze. I tried staying in the kitchen, but being the paternally declared waitress of the evening, I had to keep running errands. "Hey, sweetie, how's about another beer for Big Tom." or "Hey, babycakes, another slice o' pizza here." God, it's sick.

I was walking back into the living room where the men were gambling loudly and yelling about the ante and "unfair dealing" when one of the men standing my the wall grabbed me. "Hey, cutie. W'addya say about goin' into the, uh, television room, huh?" I smacked his hand away. He promptly tossed his beer all over the front of my yellow blouse and whistled sickly. God, I'm a fuckin' minor! Why are they bothering?

"Dad," I said, walking up to my dad's chair.

"What, baby?" he asked, a little buzzed himself.

"I need to go do my homework right now. You guys can handle yourself for the rest of the night, right?" I asked nicely. I've learned that the nicer you are, the better it works.

"Well, have you been good?" he asked. I knew what he meant by that.

"Yes, dad. I didn't eat at all today, and I didn't yell at any of your friends." I assured him.

"Hey, she's a damn liar! She smacked me!" his friend by the wall interrupted.

My dad looked at me accusingly. "Well, you know what that means, Jim." my dad winked at him. "Hey, you know the rules, Danni. I don't know when you'll finally learn to control yourself, but now is time to learn. Now take him to the back and do as he says." my dad smiled evily at me.

I felt a knot tie in my stomach. I hated this. Every fucking week this happens and I just can't control myself. I can do what my dad says, sure, but when another man says to, I just get so embarassed. God, why?

The man followed me to the back. "What would you... What shoud I wear?" I finally choked out. He smiled when he saw just what "the back" of the house was.

"That cute little school girl uniform. And do it nicely." he smiled sickly. I changed in the closet and came out, dressed in a tight white button-front shirt and a skirt, long socks up to my knees and a little tie. He pointed at the pole situated in the middle of the room. "I want to see what you can do, first." he said.

I held back the tears as I performed for him, up and down the pole. Then, after about forty-five minutes of shamelessly dancing, he told me the fun was over. He wanted me to show him what I "really got."

Slowly, I began unbuttoning my sweaty shirt. He stormed over, impatient, and ripped it clean off of me. He then grabbed the bottom of my skirt and pulled it down, clear off my hips. He let his fingers intwine with my ribs and pushed me to the floor.

I cried the rest of the night.