I run into my room and slam the door fiercely. "Stay in there, you brat. I hate you, you rotten kid." he says through the closed door. This hurts, hurts more than the hits he says I deserve, more than when he slams the emtey bottles on my head when hes drunk. Hes never said it, not once. Hes never said he loves me, but I'll keep waiting. Maybe all of the beetings and scars will be worth it just to know my father loves me.