You grab the piece of pipe and get up on your feet. You swing, aiming for the side of his head, but he reaches out and knocks it away easily. You dive for the pipe which has fallen to the floor, trying to get to it before he does.
He stomps your hand with his foot just as your fingers are curling around the pipe.
You hear a sickening crunch, and feel the wave of pain rush from your fingers up your arm to your terrified brain. He kicks you in the chest and you curl up, trying to protect yourself, you know the drill...
"That was a very bad thing to do to, son.” he says, with exaggerated calmness.
"And you know what happens to bad kids, right?" He picks up the pipe...
Through the haze of pain and fear you see a shadow approaching your father from behind. It's your Mom, and she's holding something.
WHAM! she slams the frying pan down on top of his head and he crumples to the floor.
You stumble over to where he is lying, to check if he is alive. You see he isn't dead, just unconscious, and you feel disappointed, then guilty for feeling that way. You kick him, hard, in the ribs, and he groans in his sleep. "How's that feel, huh pop?" But he doesn't answer.
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