Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

“Say it again,” my father dared her.
Pregnant? Abortion? What?
I shook my head, clearing it, and called out again. “Mom!
Dad!”
He held me so tight, my teeth cut into the inside of my
mouth.
“You work for nothing and spend, spend, spend, you lazy
bitch,” my dad continued, “so if I want a young piece of ass to
bounce up and down on my cock once in a while, then I’d say
I earned it!”
I winced. Young piece of ass? Oh, my GGod. What the hell
were they doing?
“And you can smile and take out my credit card, go
shopping, and shut the fuck up about it,” he told her.
A slap pierced the air, and I startled.
“I hate you,” my mother choked out. “I hate you!”
The springs in the bed squeaked, and it sounded like a
struggle.
“We weren’t always like this!” my mom cried. “You
wanted me. You loved me.”
“Yeah, I did. When you were a young piece of ass.”
Fabric ripped, and my mother growled as they fought. I
froze, not fighting anymore and tears pooling so heavy they
threatened to spill over.
“But thanks to my money,” Dad said, “you still have the
tits.”
She cried out, and I heard another slap, and then grunts and
groans, and I shook my head, starting to cry. But before I
could think of what to do, the hands left my mouth and waist,
and instead came up and covered my ears as he pulled me
close.
“Shhhh,” he soothed, his mouth next to my temple.