She woke up the following morning and shifted her weight to her side in the bed, wincing as the bruise on her arm made its presence known. Illyria sucked in a breath as the pain increased. She gently pulled her arm from under the covers only to reveal a purplish patch of skin on her bicep and around her wrist. 

     She sat up in the slightly familiar bedroom that wasn't hers. She looked to the right to see a sleeping silhouette on the pull-out couch and smiled to herself.

The previous day...

     Illyria was on the couch, trying to finish her calculus homework. She graduated this year and couldn't wait to get out of this hellhole of a house. Just as she got the answer, she heard tire squealing to a stop outside and a car door slam close. Her dad had returned home from work late, reeking of cheap perfume and booze with ruby red lipstick smeared all over his chin and lips. Him swaying through the doorframe with a half empty bottle of Corona in one hand and the keys to her Toyota in the other. She was surprised that he had made it home without killing himself or wrecking her car.

     He began yelling incoherent words, slurring with every syllable. He threw the beer bottle at her head, which almost hit her and commanded her to bring her another from the wine cooler in the kitchen.

     She had slowly padded to the kitchen and grabbed a beer like he had requested and heard him push all of her notebooks and binders off the couch to make room for him to lay down. "So much for finishing that assignment", she muttered.

     She saw that he had quickly gotten comfy and began looking at her impatiently. Once she handed him the glass bottle, he tightly gripped her wrist, screaming that this wasn't the beer he wanted and for her to go back and get a different one. "This is the only brand you have, dad." It was extremely hard to talk to a drunk civilly. He slurred something along the lines of "stupid girl" and snatched her arm towards him. A small yelp of surprise and pain escaped her mouth at his sudden grip.

      "Then go and buy a different brand! I'm tired of you talking back to me!" Illyria attempted to wriggle out of his grip, but his hold only got stronger. He grabbed her chin with his forefinger and thumb and said "This is the last time I'm going to tell you this, Illyria. Get me a different beer or next time, that bottle won't miss your head." Illyria got chills as she snatched her arm away from her drunken father and grabbed her keys, heading out into the warm April evening.