Report Card.

Today's the day. Whats's gunna happen? Everytime is the same. I'm hiding. He's reading the paper, It's just a piece of paper. He slams it down. Oh no. What is this? He questioned and questioned. Silently I stood. Scared. His grasp tight, Around my thin wrist. Screaming at my blank face. I'm dead again. I plead, I tried Dad. But no. It's too late. Holding my wrist, Limp in my other hand. Another broken bone. I'll try harder next time.