“What the hell is WRONG with you?” I yelled.
“I… I don’t know… I just…” she stammered, her eyes plummeting to the floor.
“You stupid, worthless bitch. When I tell you to do something, I expect it to be done and done RIGHT .” I walked over to her, grabbed her wrist, and twisted her arm hard behind her back.
“Please!” she gasped and sobbed. “It hurts! Please, I’ll do it right, I promise,” she cried. I laughed, shoved her face into the wall and then pulled away, admiring the tear stains fresh on the paint.
“You don’t deserve me, you know that? You don’t deserve another chance. You’re trash,” I replied. I shoved her forward and let go of her wrist. She stumbled and fell hard to her knees, the side of her head smacking against the wall with a loud thud. I laughed again and went into the kitchen. She was never coordinated and now that she was pregnant, she was twice the klutz.
“Do it again. Maybe I’ll kill you if it’s not right this time,” I called behind me. I slammed the screen door and lit up a smoke.