I lie down, wait for him to leave then start sobbing, the earlier event cloud my mind. We never just get to sit in silence and colour in. I’ll get you some painkillers and then put you into bed.’
He leaves to fetch the painkillers, I get up gingerly, and dash to the toilet to be violently sick. His tickling tactics change, and he starts to tickle my feet. I crossed my arms in a huff, it’s not fair I think we always play what he wants too. He looks at me and smirks. ‘Must be a bad migraine if you’re sobbing like that. My eyes are leaking with tears. This is wrong, I want my jeans back, I want to protect my modesty. ‘Oh and don’t forget Ann, we will be doing this again.’ He says in a whisper before opening my bedroom door. Exposing my chest, he rubs at the little nubs that will one day be my breasts, and flicks at them with his fingers. My Dad pokes his head through the door, and sees
