When he smashed the rake against the wall, she began to think he had chosen the garage on purpose so he had things to break.
When he smashed his favorite skis, swinging a heavy bucket of who the hell knew what…Tools? Cement? She was truly frightened.
Not necessarily frightened for her physical safety, just frightened that a decision she made could provoke so much rage in a human being.
That the human being was her father made it scarier: Will he say something that makes me never want to speak to him ever again? Or do something? Will he hit me? He never has before, but…
Her mother had warned her.
Your father knows you’re dancing.
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