The sin eater 1

 The father hit his daughter straight across the room.  His huge hands careful to make the marks where no one could see it. Her rib cracked as he lunged forward and hit her in the chest.  Damn she hated the injuries. Painful physical reminders that were awkward to explain and difficult to hide. Her survival instinct took over as she threw herself out of the window.  Thank God they lived on the ground floor. The music in the background, or was it in her head, kept on playing.   The beat pulsating.  Run run run like the wind. 

She ran to the hills.  No one was there and she did not have to upset anybody. THis is where she could cry out loud and tell herself it didn’t happen.  She was sure she was somehow responsible for this attack, but she needed to clear her head so that she could figure out what she had done.  She knew he wouldn’t follow her. She also knew if she stayed away long enough he would calm down and get sober. Maybe he would buy her something. The father would also make something to eat and she would sit there, and eat it.    She ate it because she was his sin eater.