jorcarrox
"Elsa!" The screech came from inside the house. I flinched, spilling the lemonade I was pouring all over my feet. I braced myself for the inevitable as she came running out of the house, brandishing a golf club.
I pulled it. The short straw. I glanced up at the man, whose teeth gleamed in a wide, toothy smile. A chill ran through me, even colder than the cabin we were occupying. "Guess you won't be eating dinner tonight," he chuckled.
He never gave me the time I wanted. Whenever I wanted to talk, he was always too tired, or too hungry, or too busy. Dads aren't supposed to be in their daughters life only when they think it's a good time for them. They should be there for the long haul.