When I finally step through the door of my house, a wave of fatigue hits me like a ton of bricks, and I can feel soreness in every muscle. On the porch, my dad stands with a look that could scare anyone; his face is set in a way that suggests he’s on the verge of losing his temper. A shiver runs through me, and I instinctively halt, my heart pounding in my chest. The anxiety wraps around me like a heavy blanket, and I can sense tears beginning to form in my eyes, mirroring the overwhelming fear that consumes me at that moment.
    As I make my move to quietly pass him, he suddenly lunges and grabs my wrist, twisting it painfully and causing a sharp sensation to surge up my arm. The shock of his action leaves me momentarily paralyzed, and I can’t find the words to protest or even react. With a swift motion, he pulls me into the house, his grip so tight that I realize there’s no way for me to escape his hold.
    He releases my wrist, and I can see a brief expression of revulsion cross his features. It’s as if he can’t stand the thought of touching me any longer. I gently inspect my wrist, feeling a sharp sting that makes me wince. As I look closer, I notice the beginnings of a bruise already appearing, a dark mark that signals the impact of his grip.
My eyes are welling up with tears, and I can sense them on the verge of spilling over. However, I am determined to hold them back. I won’t allow myself to display such vulnerability in front of him, no matter how overwhelming the emotions are inside me.
 In the distance, I can hear my mother yelling at the television, her voice rising and falling with the drama of whatever show she’s watching. It’s hard to pay attention to her, though, especially with my father’s anger filling the room like a thick fog. I can feel my heart racing as I glance down at the floor, trying to avoid his gaze. The tension in the air is palpable, and I know that whatever is about to happen will be more severe than what I’ve experienced before.
 The moment our eyes connect, I feel a wave of discomfort wash over me, causing me to flinch. The look in his eyes is so powerful that it conveys a deep-seated disdain, leaving me questioning how a father could regard his own child with such animosity. It’s heartbreaking to come to terms with the fact that the connection we ought to have is overshadowed by a vast divide filled with resentment. This realization leaves me feeling adrift, unsure of where I fit into his world and what my existence means to him.
 “D-dad,” I manage to utter, my voice trembling with fear as I brace myself for whatever might come next. The uncertainty of the moment hangs heavily in the air, and I can feel my heart racing as I anticipate his reaction. It’s as if time has slowed down, and every second stretches out, amplifying my anxiety about the confrontation that seems inevitable.
In that moment, I am overwhelmed by a mix of emotions—fear, sadness, and a desperate longing for understanding. I wish things could be different, that we could bridge the gap that has formed between us, but the reality is stark and painful. The love and support I yearn for feel so far out of reach, and I can’t help but wonder if there’s any hope left for us to mend what has been broken.
The sensation of tears trickling down my face is undeniable, and I find myself fighting against the urge to let out a cry. My throat tightens, making it difficult to breathe as I try to suppress the wave of sorrow that washes over me. It's a battle between wanting to express my pain and the instinct to remain strong, but the tears keep coming, each one a testament to the turmoil I’m experiencing inside.
I pressed my back firmly against the cold, hard wall, feeling the rough surface dig into my skin. My heart raced as I watched my father reach for his belt, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops echoing ominously in the silence of the room. Panic surged through me, and I felt a lump form in my throat as I struggled to find the right words. I whispered desperate pleas, my voice trembling, hoping against hope that he would reconsider and show me mercy in that moment of fear.
As I hit the ground, he pulls me down with him, and I brace myself for what’s coming next. He raises the belt high, the light glinting off its surface, and I can sense the tension in the air. Then, without warning, he brings it down hard against my back, the sharp pain radiating through me, making it hard to focus on anything else as I struggle to cope with the sudden surge of hurt.