I saw his face. He had dark brown hair and bight hazel eyes. "W-what are you d-doing here?" I asked still processing that he was here.

"Can't I come see my daughter?" He asked in an innocent tone. I stumbled a few steps backwards until he wrapped his arms around my neck.

"Why don't we go on a walk, huh?" He slowly put a smirk on his face. It wasn't really that he was asking more telling. I shuddered down into my shoes and took a step forward with his arm still wrapped around my shoulder.

"So, did you miss me?" He asked. I slowed down a bit until he shoved me forward. "Don't." He said to me, his voice harsh and cruel. I kept walking with him until we made it to a car.

He opened the door and signalled for me to sit in it. I stared into the car for a bit before I got pushed in. The door smashed shut behind me and I watched as he crossed to the other door and sat down beside me.

"Why don't we head home?" He asked starting the car. For the whole ride he asked questions while I sat in silence not answering any. He kept his cool for most of the ride until we got home.

He got out of the car and walked towards my side. He opened the door to my side and put his hand out to me. I ignored it and got out myself, shoving his hand away in the process.

When I looked around I noticed this wasn't where our old house was, the other side of town I think. I had been here a few times so I didn't know it too well.

He led me into the house and pulled out a chair in the kitchen. "Sit down." He grunted. I took the seat and looked down at the floor. "Your gonna have to talk to me sometime, runt!" He finally got angry.

His loud voice sent shivering down my spine and I curled up a bit more. I heard him mumble something as he stormed out of the kitchen. "Don't you move!" He shouted to me from the hall.

I waited in his kitchen, the scent of beer filling my nostrils. He's still drinking. I thought to myself. My father was an alcoholic, that's the simple way to put it anyway.

He's been involved with drugs and illegal shit. That's the way's it's always been.

My mother and father were actually never in love. We were 'an accident' as my father puts it.Since he was almost always drunk, he never really cared for us. That was my mothers job is what he says. My mother used to tell me that she couldn't leave that house.

I guess the only reason she couldn't was because we were around, and unlike my father she wasn't going to let us die. As soon as we were born, we moved into his house and lived there.

He never showed any interest in us. It was neglection as my mother told me. After about a year my mother moved in with us and started to care for us. Since we hadn't been cared for properly we were starved and weak.

That was partly why I don't eat much, but anyway. At about 3 maybe 4 years old my father finally started to pay attention to us, not us rather me.

He always used to take me into the kitchen and lash out at me for my un-feminine ways. 'Your a girl not a boy. No sports. No trousers.'

When I told him what I thought about that he usually just flung me around and punched me screaming that I was wrong. That's how our family worked. As long as I did what he wanted he would leave everyone else alone.

I got used to bandaging myself up and covering the bruises. I covered them so that Atsumu and Osamu wouldn't have to worry. I heard a loud popping from behind me.

Wine. That was the sound of the cork from a wine bottle popping out from it's socket. I heard a loud chugging noise and a gasp for air, then a slamming on the table.

I didn't have to turn to know what was happening there. "Grgich Hills Estate." He slurred. "The best of the best." He finished. He took another gulp of the wine then came into my sights.

"Make me food." He said bluntly, not looking me in the eyes. I didn't reply. "I said make me food!" His voice got louder. Again I didn't answer.

"Are you deaf brat? Make me some fuckin' food!" He screeched his spit hurdling on to my face. I kept silent again. "If you don't make me any fuckin' food I'll kill ya." He threatened.

I didn't even flinch at those words. He scoffed. "Fine, I'll just have to kill that b-." He started. "Don't. Touch. Him." I finally said. My voice was stern, harsh but a small crack came through showing that I was scared.

"Wha?" He laughed a look of disbelief on his face. "That's the first thing you say, oh your in for it now you little slut." He shamed me.

He grabbed my hair and pulled me towards the kitchen sink. "This'll show you, you slut." He grabbed some sort of weapon and started to slide it along the side of the table.

I started to twist around and around trying to get out of his grip. Instead he tightened his grip and wanked my hair. "Ow!" I yelped out in pain.

"You little whore, I could kill you right now. And I will. No ones gonna save you now." He cackled lifting the knife into my sights. It was a steak knife, one of the bigger ones.