KATERINA'S POV

After the lesson, I pack my things up and put my bag over my shoulder. This day is getting on my nerves. I hate maths.

,,Eh... Katerina..?"

I look to my side, only to see the new student looking at me innocently. What is his name again? Lee...? I don't care..

,,What?", I snap, making the boy flinch and he lets his book fall down. ,,Ah... I-I'm sorry... I just...", the boy stutters and wants to kneel down to pick up his book but one of the popular girls appears, kicking his book away.

,,Ops", Fiona says, making her three other friends giggle. The boy shakes his head:,,It's okay..." Fiona. I have always hated her. I sigh and walk out of the classroom, hearing the boy calling my name but I ignore him, being too annoyed.

When I hear Fiona and her friends still talking to the boy, I hesitate for a second. What if he will get bullied? Well... I groan and continue walking, bumping into student's shoulders, hearing apologies but I ignore them, wanting to get out of the school building.

Then, it's none of my business...

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I open the door to my house and close it behind me, putting my keys back into my pocket. ,,I'm home", I shout and wait, but I don't get a response.

The smell of smoke and alcohol suddenly hits my nostrils and I immediately know what happened. I sigh, taking my shoes off and then I walk to the living room. When I stand in the door frame, my eyes land on the sofa on which my dad is lying on, a can of beer in his limp hand.

How can he sleep like that without spilling the liquor out?

My eyes then wander to the coffee table in front of my dad and I frown, counting the beer cans on it. 1..2...3..4..5..6..7..8..9..10..11.. Wow, he broke his own record.. 11 beer cans in one day...

I cross my arms in front of my chest, staring at my father. His face is flushed and his shirt is stained with a splash of beer he didn't seem to have noticed when he was awake. A wave of revulsion rolls over me, sharp and undeniable, as if my stomach has turned inside out.

When will he ever stop? It's getting worse and worse. Why can't we be like a normal family??

Tears sting in my eyes and I blink, not daring to cry. Why did my mom leave my brother and me with this shithead? Why couldn't she take us with her? I bite my lower lip and when my eyes land on my dad again, my chest tightens with a mixture of anger and shame, a bitter cocktail I can't swallow.

I sigh, turning around and pulling my phone out to look at the time. It's 4pm. I have two hours until I can pick up my brother from school. I walk up the stairs, being careful not to wake up my dad. Then I walk into my room, changing into my sports clothes before walking down to the cellar.

I turn the lights on, walking to the mattress in the middle where a boxing bag is hanging down from the ceiling. Next, I do warm up exercises, stretching my body before I put my boxing gloves on.

Should I be careful not to wake my dad up? Nah.. I don't care.. I need to let my anger out...

I take a deep breath and position myself in front of the bag, dancing on the balls of my feet. Then I punch the bag once. Twice.

My fists fly in precise jabs, each punch cutting through the air with a sharp thwap as they connect with the bag. The rhythmic thud of my gloves against the bag echo in the cellar, punctuated by my controlled grunts with every strike.

I hate life. Thud. I hate my mother. Thud. I hate my school. Thud. I hate all the students at my school. Thud. I hate the teachers. Thud. Why does everyone seem to have a happy family? Thud. Except for me.. Thud. Why..? Thud. WHY?? Thud.

A picture of my brother flashes through my head and I hesitate with my next punch, my body shaking. Sweat trickles down my temple, dripping onto the mattress below.

I swallow and take a deep breath before I punch the bag again. Why does Vlad have to endure this? Thud. Why? Why? Why? Thud. HE IS A FUCKING CHILD!

My muscles ripple as I throw a hook, the force reverberating through the heavy bag and making it swing in protest. I pull through gloves down and wipe the back of my hand over my temple as try to calm my breathing. I look up at the clock hanging on the wall.

Good. Now I should prepare myself to pick up Vlad. ...