Forty-Five

“Hey.

Fat ass.

I told you no dinner tonight.”

I look up at his face.

I don’t want to give up my dinner.

I haven’t eaten since lunch at school, and it’s almost seven.

“But I’m hungry,” I retort.

“Yeah. And you’re fucking fat. Give me that plate.”

Without another thought, he’s running after me.

I know he’s going to hit me.

I make it to my room and head straight for the closet.

He starts yelling, again.

“I’m going to teach you to listen to me.

I won’t have a fat little girl living with me

Let me in.

NOW.”

I start to cry.

So many tears, I can’t see anymore.

But he thankfully can’t hear them over his rage.

I hear my mom say, “She’s six! Let her have dinner.”

I hear him push her down.

Then, she must have gotten up, because she walks away.

“You think this is some joke?

You think little boys like fat little girls?

They don’t.”

He doesn’t know, but I’ve been barricading the door since I locked myself in here.

I hope he trips if he ever makes it in.

He punches the wall next to the door and curses.

He opens the closet door, takes in the colossal mess, then peers at me.

“You little shit,” he says, tripping over my stuffed horse.

“I will fucking beat you next time you defy me.”

He walks out, howling about the mess I just made and the rug burn on his knee.

I slink down the wall.

At least he didn’t get to me.

Tonight.