Break Me

I began to see stars as he slammed my head into the wall. Again and again, punishing me for the sins of the entire family. I could feel bruises forming on my thighs, and the side of my head was beginning to bleed; warm, sticky blood flowing down the side of my face. All this, because I hadn't put my dishes away. He pulled on my hair, yanking hard. I didn't scream, I didn't whimper, I wouldn't cry. No matter what I would not give him that satisfaction. He breathed into my face, and I smelled alcohol on his breath. I tried not to flinch or gag. He yanked harder on my hair, and I felt some pull free from my head.
"Daddy, stop it!" begged my little sister, Emily. She was thirteen, and she was my baby. She was much too young to see this, let alone experience it herself. I lived in fear that if I went away, she would end up taking the heat of her dads anger. So here I stayed.
"Daddy, please!" Emily screamed again. For a brief moment, I wondered at how she could still call him daddy, after all she had seen. Emily had a continuing faith in humanity- and her father. She believed that someday, he would stop the beatings. Me? I just hoped it stopped before it extended to her. He slammed my head into the wall one last time, and walked away. He stopped and cocked his head, throwing these words over his shoulder.
"Next time you'll know better, Jaden," he kept walking.
"I've learned my lesson," I whispered.