THE ROGUE LUNA.

Blaire Simpson pushed the door open slowly and tiptoed inside the house, closing the door slowly behind her.

It was quite late and she guessed her father would be back home, that's if he wasn't getting drunk at Four Town bar.

She prayed the latter, because if he was home, then she was doomed.

It wasn't as if she'd done anything bad, but he gets very angry when he returns home before her or when he comes home and his dinner isn't served.

And her coming home late wasn't intentional. She'd missed the last bus, plus there was quite a traffic on the way, so she'd trek for most part of the journey.

But those weren't excuse enough for him, to why she'd came home late. He would be livid nonetheless of her valid excuses and that was why she prayed her wasn't back home.

The lights weren't on, but that doesn't give her any relief, because the man might be home, but wouldn't turn on the light.

She fished her cellphone from the pocket and turned on the flashlight to make her way through the darkness.

However, she was startled by the manly figure that was leaning against the wall. Seeing the man hateful gaze zeroed on her, her heart dropped into the deepest part of her stomach.

Her father.

"Dad.."

"Where the fuck are you coming from by this time?" He queried her angrily, taking slow strides towards her now scared figure.

Peter Simpson pushed the light switch and the bright light came on, illuminating the small passage that led to the door.

Looking at her, he felt a sudden surgery of anger to hurt her and cause her pain.

"There...was...traf---"

"Shut up you slut!" He shushed her up and immediately, she swallowed back her words.

The man was angry, she could sense it, but she noticed something else, he was staggering even with his slow strides.

He was drunk again.

"Dad...I can explain...the traffic was..." He shut her up with a resounding slap, so hard that her ear didn't stop humming for the next few seconds.

Per the effect of the slap, tears started streaking down her deep set amber eyes.

"You slut, you went to see a guy!" He pointed accusing, grabbing a handful of her dark hair,

"How dare you return home by this time!" He queried furiously, still pulling her hair and slapping her face, mercilessly.

Blaire tried to shield her face with her palms, but he punched through them and pushed her away.

She landed on the hardwood floor in a thud, her back hitting against the wall, but the man didn't stop.

He lunged towards her coiled form and started kicking her nonstop.

"You went to meet a man, uh? You've been fucking around, haven't you?" He accused her lividly, still kicking her.

"I haven't." She defended herself hoarsely, covering her face so his kicks doesn't land on them.

"I..didn't..meet..anyone.."

"Liar!" He shouted at her. His face was purple red and his big German body was heaving as he stopped kicking her.

"What do you think your mother would say if she was alive?" His voice was now slow, but and octave higher.

"She'll forgive me, if I explain to her.."

"Shut up! You slut." He said with gritted teeth and clenched fist, staring at the girl.

Blaire raised up her head to meet the man's gaze; his drawn broad face and blazing eyes the color of mud; lank hair roughly the same color and thin colorless lips.

"I'm sorry papa..." She cried, apologizing to him

"It won't happen again, I promise."

"It'd better not, for you would live to regret it." He stated venomously and right before her, he hissed and turned, staggering towards the stairs.

"Don't make me wait for my dinner!" He hollered from the stairs, reminding her about his dinner.

"Okay." She made an inarticulate throaty cry, not getting up from the floor.

For a few minutes, Blaire cried a dry, choking cry, wiping away the blood she'd tasted on her lips.

Her scalp was burning from the violent pull, her ribs were hurting from the kick and so was every other part of her body.

She haven't even healed completely from the beating of two days ago and here she was, crying the aftermath of another.

More likely, they haven't healed from all the assault and abuse she's been receiving for the past three years and counting.

She was bruised beyond repair and there was no light of hope for her.

Three years ago, herself and her mother had been involved in a tragic car accident. She was lucky to had survived the accident, but her mother wasn't fortunate enough, she died on the spot.

Her life became a living hell from that fateful day.

Her father for some unknown reason, blamed her for the accident that'd killed his wife.

"She died because of you. If you hadn't been a psycho, she wouldn't have had to take you to the doctor and sure wouldn't have met that accident." He'd said to her countless him, she'd lost count.

He'd even told her he wished she'd died in that accident and not his wife.

Blaire wasn't shocked, cause she took wished she'd died in her mother's place or even die alongside her. That way, she wouldn't be living this hell is living in now.

She won't have to face her father's constant abuse or her older sister's dejection.

After her mother's funeral, she was forced to take up the role of a wife to her father. She cooked for him, cleaned, did his laundry too. Most times, his sexual pleasures he'd derived from her too.

Several times, she'd attempted suicide, but every attempt was a complete failure and she'd to face his deadly wrath afterwards. She'd tried to talk to her older sister about it, but Shelly had never cared about her, not while their mother had been alive and after her death, it only became worst.

She rarely came home, leaving her to the constant abuse of their father.

After her highschool graduation, last May, her father had refused her from going to college even though she was accepted on a full term scholarship to study psychology in UCSC.

Now, she was working as a waitress at Dela Restaurant. Her earnings are his to squander and she wasn't permitted to go out with any guy.

Some months back, Malcolm, her best friend's brother, had insisted on driving her home from the restaurant, because it was quite late. Her father had brutally abused her just because he saw her getting out of his car and he'd assaulted her so badly, she'd to call in sick from work the next few days.

Since then, she'd avoided the opposite gender like plague.

Even her former best friend, Poppy, she wasn't permitted to visit or communicate with anymore. Although, she was far away in Northwestern studying law and only came home during the holiday, her father had strictly warned her not to communicate with her, fearing she would expose him, so she'd to keep her distance.

In fact, she was living in hell on earth, with no one to talk to and no way of salvation.

After sobbing her pain away for a few more minutes, she gathered herself up from the floor and sauntered towards the kitchen.

He must be having his bath and would take quite awhile. She just have a prepare a quick dinner and serve them before he returns. Ignoring her bones that were screaming in pain and anguish, she set out to work immediately.

Using the pressure pot, she was able to beat the time and when he came out several minutes later, she was done with dinner.

"Blaire!" He called out to her, walking towards the dining table.

He was on his pajamas pants, shirtless above it. His dangerous looking tattoos visible for the eyes to see.

Most times, Blaire had wondered what'd actually attracted her mother to a man like her father. He was deadbeat, all he'd ever cared about was drinking and gambling away the little money they'd. He'd a job at the Topeka Sewage plant, but eventually lost the job and they all had to feed from the money her mother had made, work as the sales manager at JC's and Penny's.

After her mom's death, they started living off her insurance. Shelly moved away Oklahoma and came home once in a blue moon. She was stuck with him, with no possible jeans of escape. That was why she'd insisted on working at Dela's; it was her temporal escape and a means of financial support.

Not waiting for him to ask, she pulled out a seat for him to sit on and after he sat, she hurried to the kitchen and brought his dinner.

Dinner was bacon and spaghetti sauce.

"Sit." He ordered in a monosyllabic tone after she'd served him his dinner. She pulled out the seat next to his and sat on it.

For several minutes, he ate his dinner hungrily, while she sat there, contemplating on how easy it would be for her to just poison him one of these days and get him off her back.

But then, her conscience would kill her with guilt for the rest of her life. She's still living with the guilt of her mother's death, to want to add his to the list.

"When is your pay day due?" He asked her all of a sudden, dragging her from her reverie and she faced down, avoiding his gaze completely.

"On the twenty fifth." She mouthed in reply to his question and he grunted something incomprehensible, going back to his dinner.

"Dad, I've ran short of my pills. Can I get money to restock?" She asked him in a barely audible tone and he returned his gaze on her, his brows creased.

"You'd a restock two weeks ago, how come you've ran out of it?" He flared acidly, his voice so loud, it reverberated around the room.

"Have you been using it with another person?" He pointed accusingly at her, she coiled back in fear and shock,

"Have you been sleeping around with another man?" He repeated, this time pushing his dinner away, the cup of water fell on the floor, shattering into pieces.

"No..no...one...I'm...not.."

"Shut up, you slut!" He roared angrily, smacking her across the face.

"You've been sleeping around!" He accused her blatantly, pulling her by her hair,

"You've been sleeping around with other men uh?

Is it your boss? Have you been sleeping with him?" He asked her, yanking her hard on her hair.

"Dad, I'm not...Mister Creed isn't doing anything to..." Another thunderous slap and she swallowed her words.

He grabbed her neck and pinned her face to the wooden table, almost wanting to strangle life out of her.

"Get this into your slutty head, bitch. I own you. Till the day you draw your last breathe, you're mine and the sooner you accept that, the better for you." He spat venomously, still pressing her neck, while she wheezed and gasped for air.

"The next time you give me any reason to doubt my ownership over you, I'll do hurt you, you'll wish for death instead." With those words, he let go of her neck and pushed her head against the table. He hissed and left, leaving her to clear up the mess he'd made on the floor and on the table.

With tear filled eyes and belabored breathing, she watched him walk towards the stairs.