She ran out of the room and down a narrow hallway into a shabby-looking living room. The TV was on and she spotted someone sitting in a chair facing it. She crept as silently as she could towards the front door, but the floor creaked, giving her away.
The man in the chair turned and glared at her. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he asked. She recognized that voice immediately. But it couldn't be, could it? The man dropped his empty beer can on the floor and stood up, revealing that he was dressed in a pair of boxer shorts and a wife beater T-shirt. He was really out of shape and had quite a large gut on him, but it was definitely him. It was her father. But he never ever looked like this. It was like he was white trash or something.
"Dad? What happened to you?" Sarah asked, shocked.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" he asked, his speech slurred from being drunk.
