The second I walked into my house he was there. I had enjoyed every moment of my run, and was looking forward to being able to enjoy my final little session of peace before he may return. But had returned early. He was there. Waiting. Those eyes that had long since been dead behind them focused heavily upon me as I stepped through the door. He was stood leaning against the staircase, that same heavy stench of alcohol lingering, telling me I was in trouble.
Panic filled my every pore. My heart pounded within my chest as my gut told me to turn around and run. But, my better instinct told me not to even try. The punishment when I had been caught would always be far worse, so I continued inside of the house, doing all that I could not to meet those cold, brutal eyes. Any eye contact was only
