Fall Down Dad

Sizzling eggs crack into a pan of crisp bacon, steam rising like forbidden smoke. The lens pulls back to expose Andi, a fragile 18-year-old waif, trembling as she cooks in the dim kitchen. Her small hands flip the eggs, slather butter on toast, eyes darting to the door, heart pounding in the oppressive hush. A timer shrieks, jolting her—then the door slams wide. Fred, her grubby stepdad slob, lurches in, growling for his grub. Andi cowers, plating his food fast, the air thick with dread. His gaze rakes her tiny frame, hungry and vile, before he flops into his seat. He gropes his crotch, sneering: 'Feel how stiff you've got me, girl? Finish up and crawl over here—I'll show you. Bet your tight hole fucks circles around your mom's dried-up snatch. Eighteen now, huh? Prime for pounding, that fresh young cunt.' He hacks and rasps between sleazy jeers, breath ragged. She bites her lip, dodging his barbs, fueling his rage. 'What slutty rags are those? I said flash more flesh in my house! HEY, you deaf? Treat your stepdad right, or else!' Under breath, Andi hisses he's no real stepfather. Fred's fist crashes down like thunder. 'What the fuck did you just say?' Andi freezes, terror coiling tight.