Page 15 (2/2)

"Don’t ever talk to me that way," Dad snarls "I won’t have you turn on ain, I’ll kill you You hear me, woman? Do You Bloody Well Hear Me?"

He shakes her with every word Muers scratch at his aronna finish her off, that this is hoill end All these years, all the beatings, all leading to this I push ain, desperate to stop hiood on his threat

But then Dad’s fingers relax and withdraw He clutches Mu Her nose is bleeding The flesh under her left eye is already starting to puff up Dad wipes blood frohtly

"You’ll be all right," he says as if she’d just tripped and hurt herself "Goout back You’ll be fine when you coasps repeatedly like a dying fish Dad’s fingers clench

"Won’t you?" he barks, sharper this ti to hear an answer

"Yes Todd," Muets up and stu that if she makes too ain

Dad looks at me and I wait for him to follow up his first blow If he lays into me, I’ll just stand here and let hi to do He loses his head cos, the pain As long as Mum’s out of the way and safe, he can hit h," Dad says slowly, then pauses, letting ht now, that he can laugh this off or come down hard on me, that he has the power, that me and Mum are his to control "I wish I’d been there to see you knee that sod"

We both laugh, Dad loudly, ets a feers right and chuckles proudly, delighted with his the tea and he pats her bum as she places it before him She smiles crookedly, sits by his side and kisses the hand he struck her with

Later, into tunes on ht I can’t hold them back I’m not in much pain - the slap didn’t even leave a mark - but inside I feel wretched

I don’t want to blame Dad for what he did I make excuses for hied him She knohat he’s like She should have read his mood and

No I can’t put the bla too I shouldn’t have risked my neck for an Indian kid I should have left the baby to the mutants One less for us to kick out of the country Dad was right He was trying to help us see the world the way it really is We should have listened It wasn’t his fault I shouldn’t have saved the baby Mum should have kept her mouth shut

I tell myself that over and over I make every excuse for him that I can And I try to believe I try so bloody hard to justify his actions, because he’s my dad and I love him But deep down I know it’s a load of bull

When I’ sounds, I channel the h my speakers so that Dad won’t hear Then I weep harder, fingers balled into fists, face scrunched up with hate and confusion

He’s a bully A wife beater A racist A hateful, nasty sod I want to hang hiony Ask him if he’s proud of hiht to beat up a wo such a terrible thing He wants what’s best for us He’s trying to help, doing all that he can to steer us the right way He only hits us e let him down We have to try harder We

"I hate hi my face in my hands

But he’s my dad

"I hate him"

But he’s my dad

"I hate him"

But