My school project

"Arthur ! Downstairs now!" my father hollered up to me. I walked down the old creaking stairs carefully stepping over the cans and bottles thrown on the dirty wood floors. Sometimes my house reminds me of something in a old horror movie my grandparents would watch when they were younger. When i walk into the living room i see my drunken father, a lifeless man with graying stubble wearing a grease stained shirt lying helplessly in the old leather recliner my mother bought years ago.

"Yes" i said with my voice shaking
"Come Here!" he shouted angrily his index finer indicating me to get closer.

------ SLAP-------

My face burned kind of like the feeling you would get when you walk on the beach sand after the sun had been beating down on it all day.

"Your worthless boy, i don't know why i let your mother talk me into keeping you! Have you looked around this place is a mess, all you do is stay up in the attic" he was mad i could tell by the way he looked at me.
"Well Father, maybe i spend all my time up there in the small attic because you treat me so bad!" that was definitely the wrong thing to say.
" Son, you have no idea what abuse is but if you would like me to show you i would be happy to right now" and with that he got out of the chair and came closer to me.



_____ so that is the first part i am still making little adjustments but i will have the rest up soon