Scorpions, Anxiety, and Coffee Mugs

I heard someone's car pull up in our drive way and ran into the bathroom to wash off as much of my eyeliner as I could. Looks like I'm not sneaking out tonight.
I looked at myself in the mirror, tucking my bangs behind my ear. Ugly as usual. Might as well hide out in my room. I grabbed a rag and wet it with warm water.
In the end, it looked as if I had cried my eyes out for half an hour, which will probably make my dad just as angry as eye make-up.
I heard the front door slam open-- definately him. As I heard the television roar to life, I attempted to escape into my lair. I tip-toed down the hallway and cringed when I got to my door. It was notorious for squeaking. Maybe my father wouldn't hear it...
I opened the door, then swiftly closed it behind me.
Fuck.
The lights are off.
I held out my hands infront of me and tried to feel my way through the dark but I ended up tripping over a pile of clothes/my bookbag/ a dead body and crashed into my dresser.
And then the damn thing fell over, too.

"Frank?!"
Oh, God.
"Coming, dad!" I quickly got up, ignoring the pain in my side and on the side of my face, and ran into the living room, where he was seated on the couch.
"Quit running in the house!" He rubbed his temples and muted the televison. When he turned back to me, a disapproving look was plastered on his face.
"What was that noise, Franklin?"
I looked down and cleared my throat, trying to think of a good excuse.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, fag!" he growled.
I snapped my head up and felt the tears start to spill over. I alway knew he thought lowly of me, but he had never, ever expressed it so harshly.
"I fell." I tried not to mumble, but it came out slurred beyond comprehension. As soon as the two words left my mouth, I hung my head down. Ashamed instantly of my word choice.
"You fell?" he chuckled, as I stole a small glance, not wanting to anger him more.
"You know, people fall all the time, Frank."
He leaned in closer to me.
"Sometimes people fake accidents, too."
He got up.
"Sometimes, they aren't accidents."
I swallowed hard and backed up slowly, but he followed, pinning me against the wall.
"You planning something, Frank?"
I felt my jaw drop. I shook my head slowly, not able to form words.
"So you're just a clumsy fuck-up then, right?" He shoved my chest violently.
"I'm not setting you up! I really fell, dammit!"
Before I knew what hit me I was on the ground, being drug through the living room by my dad, who had a tight grip on my hair. A small chuckle escaped his throat as he threw me against the kitchen sink.
"I'll teach you to talk to me in such profanity."