My dad was drunk again. I hate it when he gets like this; so drunk he doesn't even realize what he's doing. "Dad, please calm down," I say as softly as I can, but loud enough that he can hear me through his garbled mumbling. He's pacing the floor. Well, as much as one can pace while stumbling simultaneously. I'm standing in the doorframe of the livingroom, just watching him slowly lose it... Again. He pauses to lift the bottle to his lips, taking a much larger gulp than probably safe. "Daddy," I say as I tentavely touch his arm. As if I had some virus that would infect him from my touch, he threw his arm back and his hand whipped across my face, forcing me to fall into the wall. Suddenly I'm shaking and I reach up to feel for any blood on my now sore cheek. There is none, but my eyes burn. Dads mumbling has grown louder, and he is less aware of the things around him. He loses his footing and crashes into the coffee table where the lamp sits. I instinctively start toward him as the lamp falls and shatters next to him. A series of swear words leap from his mouth and he picks up the remains of the lamp and throws it at me. It just barely misses me and he yells, "GAH! I hate you!" he struggles to get up. "Please don't say that," I said, trying to sound strong, but my voi e came out in quivers. He had only made it up to his knees when he dropped his head into his hands. I saw his shoulders shaking. Seeing him like this made me blink ba I my own tears, so I tested a step towards him. Then another, and another until I was in front of him, kneeling so I could put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. Shh. Its okay," I whisper. For a moment I think everything really is going to be okay. He stopped shaking. "Daddy?" He looked up at me. At first his eyes were soft and needy. The. They suddenlyn changed into hatred. It happened so fast I was utterly taken off guard. He grabbed my arms and yanked me up off the ground as he stood up. "Ow!" I yelped and tried to back away, but he held his grip fast. "It was your fault!" He shouted right at me, spittle spraying against my face. I was reeling quickly, trying to get him away from me, but he kept up. Suddenly I felt my bedroom door against my back. Dad let go of me, only to slap my face. I crouched to the ground, throwing my arms above my head, but his beatings were raining upon me. He was yelling nonsense at me the whole time, and my mind kept screaming, GET AWAY! My hand crept up the door to find the doorknob and I opened it, falling backward into my room. As I fell, dad stopped beating me and went into the livingroom. I was left, tears streaming down my cheeks, shaking uncontrollably in the fetal position. I heard his heavy footsteps coming back, but I was too weak to move. I dared to open an eye, and the last thing I saw before darkness was the bottle coming down hard in my head.