[32] Lengths of Trust (Part 3)

(Kyle)

One powerful punch to my abdomen tells me he’ll do it again. He grunts and grits his teeth as his fist meets with my jaw –luckily it won’t leave a mark this time. He lands a punch to my stomach. I cringe and let out a slight groan. I almost topple over onto the wooden chair in the lounge.

He is drunk off the power he prides; he is angry at the thought of not getting his way; he is unmerciful at the suggestion of defiance.

I’ve done everything he’s asked me to –indulged in a life of crime to protect my own secrets and to protect the people I care about.

Nothing I do is ever good enough for him.

Nothing I do will ever be good enough.

“You fool,” he spites, panting, his breath is all alcohol, “Get to it, now!”