The TV screen is destroyed in a million pieces by the time he's done releasing his anger on it.
He turns to me, and I bet he loves me like this. Trembling, eyes cast down, because I can't bring myself to face the situation.
"When did it start?"
I wouldn't even know how to answer that. Because once again, I've been a victim of men taking what they wanted from me, and I'm not sure when Achilles stopped taking and I started giving. That's how badly this man can fuck with your mind.
My gaze is on my dad on the floor, and all I can do is watch obsessively as his chest slowly goes up and down.
He's breathing. Don't worry. He's breathing.
That's all that matters. I've seen him in states that were way worse than this. Chase isn’t the most dangerous man he's owed money to, and not the most violent either.
But I'm starting to wonder if that was because I played along in our bogus relationship.
I jump when the bat lands on the coffee table in front of me, destroying everything on it. The empty beer bottles my dad must have been drinking tonight. The ashtray, cigarette buds and ash flying, and the half-empty plate of food.
"Stop," I whimper, putting my arm in front of me to protect my head from flying glass.
"Answer the fucking question!" he roars.
"I don't know!"
He stops hitting, turning to me and pointing the bat at me.
"You don't know?" he seethes. "You don't know when the fucking rich boy from your dreamland started sticking his dick inside you?"
He hisses a breath, steps to the side toward the kitchen counter, and off goes everything on there. The weak cabinetry is made of cheap particleboard, and it starts breaking as he hits over and over, with more strength each time.
"Chase, please!" I shriek. "Please, stop!"
The sound is deafening, and I cover my ears as he goes through the whole kitchen.
"Stop! I-I—" I can't believe I'm about to say those words. "I don't want to break up. I can make it right. Please…"
Whipping around, his red face is sweating as he pants and strides back to me. He throws the bat to the side, and I crawl back on the sofa, but it makes no difference.
"Don't, don't—" My plea is cut off when he backhands me so hard I stumble off the furniture.
I barely avoid falling onto my dad, crawling on the floor as he comes after me. The taste of blood is evident, but the pain hasn't hit me yet.
"You think I want your disgusting ass back? What, so I can keep paying for you and your daddy?"
He grabs me by the hair, but my scream for help is cut short by his hand covering my mouth.
"How did it start between you and him, Nyx? Huh? Like you and me? Did he promise pretty things? Did you think he was going to save you from your shitty life with me?"
I try to shake my head as he pulls me up. Tears flow from my eyes when he drags me around by my hair. He has to release my mouth to pick up the bat, and I scream for help at the top of my lungs, hoping a neighbor will hear me.
"Shut the fuck up!" He throws me to the floor again, and my eyebrow hits the corner of the table, blood bursting from my brow ridge.
"I love you," I lie, not knowing how to get out of this anymore. "P-Please…" More blood spills out of my mouth as I try to talk. "I didn't want him. I'll fix this."
"You didn't want him?" he sneers, kicking me in the stomach when I try to crawl to him and hold on to his legs.
I fall back, going into a fetal position to protect myself from more kicks. But he doesn't touch me. Instead, he goes for my dad's liquor in the cabinet and starts pouring it all over the living room.
"It just seems you never want the guys who come after you, isn't that right, Nyx?" He laughs.
