Two years later...

"Allison, you wake up you rotten egg!" Father yelled.

I don't call him Dad, or think of him as Dad anymore, because he has forsaken me. He has beat me. He has abandoned me. He might get arrested for what he's doing, but he will bail himself out. He's a millionaire. Of course he will. Father is strange. He acts like I'm an urchin. He beats me until I'm scarred. And he wants me to act like none of this ever happens. He wants everyone else to think that we're a very happy family. But, I know we're not.

"Allison!" Father screeched.

I ran out of bed, got dressed, pulled my hair into a bun, to prevent it from being stuck into the recent and bloody indentations in my skin. I ran downstairs and got down on my knees and bowed my head, like he was a king, because he beat me extra if I didn't. I wish I was taken out of Father's custody, once and for all. He dropped his bottle of liquor on the floor right beside me angrily. He looked at me, like he was about to swear in my face like he normally does.

"Shit!" He spits in my face.

I just daydream about how much I can't wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow is Monday. Tomorrow is school. This means, less beatings for me. I like school for this reason. At school, a lot of nice adults have the kindness to teach people different subjects. Some of them aren't the calmest people, but at least they're giving away time to help young kids grow with knowledge.

"Morning routine!" Dad spits as he gestures to the stove.

I made his breakfast of scrambled eggs. Two eggs, to be exact. I also poured his a cup of coffee in his favorite mug. I also gave him a cup of orange juice, a cut up apple and an extra tiny tangerine. I brought breakfast to Father, who was sitting at the table doing nothing. I ran to the fridge to grab a glass of water. Father ran to me and pushed me down to the ground.

"Nothing for you!" He yelled.

He handed me a bottle of the world's hottest hot sauce. I know what I have to do. I have to drink the whole bottle without stopping in front of Father, no water afterwords. I opened up the bottle. I took a deep breath. Gulp, gulp gulp. I gulped down the five bottles of water worth of hot sauce, one gulp at a time. Gulp, gulp, gulp. I can barely breath. I felt my face turn blueish-purple after ten gulps. I'm only half way through. The pain. The burns. The bruises. The dizzy side-effects. All of this is just awful. I can't stand it. I need to breathe. I took the last sip and I finally started breathing again. It all seems so blissful. It's like a treasure.

"Allison!" Father yelled.

I instantly bowed to him.

"Salute!" He yelled.

I saluted him.

"Fix me, lunch, two snacks, and dinner." Father ordered.

Father drove his car to work.

I ran to my bathroom and put Neosporin on my lips. I ran to the kitchen and fixed a lunch meal of hamburgers and French fries, a snack with chips and queso, and dinner of chicken enchiladas. I also fixed a midnight snack of empanadas. If you can tell, Father loves Mexican food. I grabbed my bag in my hand and ran out of the house as fast as I could for no reason.