Seeking Solace in Each Other's Arms

My father punched him in the jaw, sending him to the floor again. "It's OK. Cut me, do it. Just please don't hit Jake anymore, please!" I begged, crying and looking at my father pleadingly.

Surprisingly, he put the knife in my hand. I had the urge to stab him with it, but he had hold of my wrist so I couldn't. He grabbed Jake's ball from the counter and held it still. "Burst it," he ordered. I shook my head quickly. Jake loved this ball, it was his birthday present from me, I had saved my allowance for two months to buy it for him. "Burst it," he repeated in his cold voice. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as it blew across my face; the smell of it turned my stomach.