Dark Avenging Angel Read Free Page B

memorizing every detail of the natural design helped take the edge off the barrage of insults.
    My father threw my school report down on the table. His eyes were blazing and his face wore that purplish red that always punctuated his outbursts. “Not good enough. Not good enough by a long way. On the first day back at school after the Christmas holiday, you are to go and see Miss Torrance and ask her for some more geometry homework.”
    “But—”
    His anger spilled over. “Don’t you dare answer me back. Don’t you dare. You will do as you’re told. How dare you defy me.” He threw back his chair. It toppled and fell. “You think I’ve been harsh on you, but you haven’t seen anything yet. I’m going to break you, girl!”
    He clenched his fists until the knuckles showed white. Any second and I was sure he would hit me like he still hit my mother. She sported a fresh set of bruises on her arm where he had gripped her hard and thrown her across the room.
    I said nothing more. My heart pounded and a migraine started to throb in my right temple—the latest of many since I was four years old. From nowhere, the pounding of Thor’s hammers began in the deep recesses of my brain.
    Seconds later the pain crashed into my head. Thumping. Thundering at my right temple. Bright flashes of light darted in front of my eyes. Waves of nausea sent bile shooting up my gut. I swallowed hard. The sweet, sickly taste filled my mouth.
    I clamped my hand to my mouth and ran to the bathroom. Just made it before a flood of vomit hit the bowl. I knelt in front of the toilet, holding my head. Moaning in pain. Surely the pounding would split my head open.
    Still it thumped, an audible, pulsating kettledrum of agony. Tears streamed down my face. I wanted to smash my head against the wall. Anything. Just to make it stop. My stomach muscles contracted in involuntary spasms of dry heaving.
    The pain lessened a fraction. I dragged myself to my feet, moving slowly so as not to jar my head. I crawled into bed, laying my head on the cool pillow. Too ill to care what happened to me, only wishing Sukie could come and comfort me with her purrs. But Sukie wasn’t allowed in bedrooms. My father forbade it.
    After an hour or so, the banging in my head had subsided sufficiently for me to slide out of bed, careful not to jar my head in case it woke up the pain. I needed to hold Sukie and feel her silky warmth.
    I crept downstairs. I heard the television on in the living room and prayed Sukie wasn’t in there. I had no desire to be in the same room as my father. The door to the dining room was slightly ajar and I pushed it open.
    A silky, black head lifted from the chair. She gave her usual little, welcoming chirrup, halfway between a muted meow and a purr. Then, she jumped off and ran toward me. I bent—careful to keep my head upright—picked her up and held her close. I curled up on the chair and sobbed into her fur while she purred and licked salty tears from my cheeks.
    The next day my punishment was served up. I was forced to watch. Mum protested, but he took no notice. I wept until my eyes burned and stung as, one by one, he broke up each of my beloved dolls and threw them in the garbage can outside. I didn’t imagine the slight smile that curled the corners of his lips. He was enjoying this.
    He saved the worst till last. He grabbed Sindy by her hair.
    “ No!”
    My father seemed to revel in the sight of his distraught daughter bawling her eyes out. Hysterical.
    He stared at me while he tore off Sindy’s arms and legs. He stamped on her torso and crushed it under his feet. Then he twisted her head 180 degrees and ripped it off. I wailed and he smiled as he tossed her shattered remains into the trash.
    He might just as well have thrown chunks of my life into that bin. I may not play with her as I used to, but I still loved her. And the others he had so callously destroyed.
    He stepped back and I saw the obscene mess of twisted limbs, broken