There’s an awkward silence after I admit it. Maybe I made a mistake confessing it, but denying it would only make him investigate more.

Now I’m in my room, door locked, my back to the wall, reflecting on the future damage I’ve just created. How could I have been so stupid? Going somewhere with him!

I still can’t think straight, when I hear something crash in the living room.

Mom and Dad.

I run to the living room and see my mom on the floor protecting her face and my father, angry, hovering over her.

“Get away from her!” I yell at him. I don’t approve of my mother’s drinking, but nobody deserves to be hit.

“What the fuck did you just say to me, bitch?” he yells back.

“I said, get the fuck off of her!” I yell. He’s not getting away with this.

“You little shit!” he says trying to insult me. He doesn’t know I’m a fucking prostitute.

“You fucking bastard. Touch her and you better hope you don’t drop the soap,” I threaten.

His arm flings and smacks me.

I touch my cheek and it’s bleeding.

Bastard.