As I sat on the side of the lumpy bed, I could feel an abundant pressure against my chest, like someone trying to keep me from breathing. I turned my head looking at the horde of dirty clothes that piled against the wall. I then looked in the mirror to see myself, lost, scared, and dead faced. My eyes looked red but my face was as pale as paper. Everything was quiet and still but then, as the door slammed, I knew my abusive father was home. I slid under the bed covering my head with a heavy pink blanket.
Wow! This is written so well, with such detail that it drags me into the story. I’m sorry to hear that it’s such a sad story about an abusive father.