/lit/ - Literature

Walking the mile and a half home, all she could think of was how much she hated the young, black boy in the hooded sweatshirt and oversized blue jeans. Her dad was going to be so angry enough at her for being so late, but the fact that she lost her bicycle would be more than the icing on the cake. It spelled out a very terrible night for Emma. She never stopped crying the whole way home.

Finally reaching the apartment that her single father shared with her, she stood in front of the door, tears running down her chin and making the front of her t-shirt wet. She hesitated. She reached for the knob but was terrified to open the door. For several minutes that seemed like an eternity, she stood there. She finally opened the door, but it wasn't because she worked up the courage. It was because she heard a familiar sound coming from inside. The clear sound of the cap being pulled off of the top of glass bottle than clattering on the wooden floor. Daddy was drinking, and the more he drank, the worse he was going to be. She wanted to get it over with before he got too drunk. She stepped into the apartment and saw her dad sitting in a wooden chair and facing the door. There were already several empty bottles sitting beside the chair and the little, metal caps from them scattered around the floor. He always let the caps fly wherever they wanted when he opened a bottle. She counted at least seven bottles before his booming voice made her look at him.