- 32 chNội dung
- số lượng người đọc
- NO.200+HỖ TRỢ
Life isn't sunshine and rainbows. Linda knows that as well as anybody. Her father has forbidden from making friends, not that she could if she wanted to, thanks to her social awkwardness. Despite that, she wants to be able to one day confess to Rachel, a delinquent girl she has a crush on.
"Have you finished?" Said a voice close to my ear.
"A-almost, daddy."
Daddy's fist slammed on the table right beside my hand, and my pen slipped across the page. I tried to keep my composure, but my body wouldn't listen and shook desperately, and I felt my trousers wet. "You said you were almost done an hour ago!"
I struggled to hold back my tears. "Please daddy, I just need a bit more time."
"Do you think the examiners are going to give you a bit more time?!"
"…" My pen shook so much that I couldn't write, but I was too afraid to set it down and so squeezed on it for comfort.
Suddenly, daddy took hold of my ear and pinched it. I held my mouth shut with my hand. If I called out, it would only disturb the sleeping neighbours. "Answer the question."
"No, daddy."
"I don't pay for you to go to private school so that you can slack off like this."
"I'm trying, daddy." There was silence for a moment, and then daddy let go of my ear. Was that it? Did I finally reach him? I turned to look at daddy, but, before I could, he slapped me in the face.
"If this is you trying, then you are no daughter of mine." He got up and left without another word.
I pressed my face down on the table and sobbed. I wanted to disappear. Why did I exist in the first place? All I ever did was hurt people. No matter how hard I tried, that was all I could do. Why couldn't I work faster like daddy wanted me to? After he had fed and clothed me for all these years and gave up a job that he loved so that I could live closer to my school, all I ever seem to do is make him angry.
I slapped myself and tried to stop the tears. Nothing good would come of it, and daddy hated girls that cried. I put my focus back on the notebook, which had turned into an inky mess. I flipped to a clean page and began working.
I had to get this done; daddy didn't look after me so that I could spend my time crying. I had to work hard to earn my right to live with him. I wiped the tears again, steadied my hand and submerged myself into the problems and after a few minutes, I was done, and before I knew it, I dropped asleep on the desk.
I woke up the following morning to a smell that made my tummy rumble. I peeled my face off from my notebook and saw a plate of omelette rice. I picked up the spoon by the plate and began to eat. It wasn't particularly good or bad, but the moment I put a spoonful in my mouth, I began to cry. I felt so angry that, for a moment, I wanted to throw the food onto the floor and break the plate.
