Proloog

He hit me in the face. Hard. My teeth sank into my underlip. I tasted the iron flavour of my own blood. At these moments I hated him the most. Why did he do this to me? But I already knew the answer. Because she wasn't here. She's gone and he says that's my fault. He almost made me believe him. Almost.

'No! Please!', she begged him. 'Please! Not here! Not now! Our eight-year old daughter is here!' I peeked around the corner. I only saw my fathers back. I heard my mother. She cried. I'd never heard my mother cry. I didn't understand why she was crying.
'Mummy?', I whispered. She looked at me and I saw tears in her eyes. My father saw her watching me and looked over his shoulder. A glance of a strange expression crossed his face. I saw something flicker in his eyes that I had never seen before as he grinned a dangerous smile. Then he turned back to mum, raised his hand and slapped her in the face. I was shocked! How could he do that to such a sweet person?! She didn't cry or yell anymore. She only looked at me.
'I love you. Go now!', she said without making any sound. I shook my head. I didn't want to leave her alone. My father raised his hand again, but now he had something in his hand. It seemed like it was an iron bar.
'Go!', she screamed now. I ran to the hallway. I covered my ears with my hands, but I could still hear the flat smack when he hit her.

The painful memory brought me back to reality.
'No!', I screamed.
'Yes!', he yelled back. 'I hate you, stupid bitch. You killed her!' He slammed my head against the kitchen dresser.
'But I-'
'Don't be so arrogant ever again! Now go back to work! Fast!' He let go of me and left me on the kitchen floor.
I could only think about one thing:
I had to get out of here.