You make me crazy...

My dad was drunk, again. It’s the forth time this week and I don’t think I can take anymore of his harsh words that cut through my skin but it seems to be the inevitable. I had just gotten home from school and I can smell the intoxications of beer and cigarettes two steps into the petite, dread filled building I call my home.
I try to close the door silently to not alarm my father that I am home but it fails when I trip over my shoelaces and fall on to the door causing it to slam. Just my luck right?
“Frank?! You’re home already ya piece of shit?” My so-called dad comes in to the living room stumbling and slurring his words. He comes closer and closer to my face and I know what’s going to happen next. He lets out a sickly cackle that makes my stomach turn. His warm breath reeked of beer and his body odor made me nauseous but I didn’t flinch.
“Hey faaaag,” He sings. “I’m talking to youuuu!”
I don’t say a word as usual and I just hope he just lets me go without bringing up the past.
“Go to your room! I don’t want to see your fucking face ya shithead.”
I slowly walk past my father and almost start walking down the hall when he spins me around and picks me up by worn out, gray t-shirt.
“Hah! You thought I was gonna let ya go that easy ya little punk!”
He throws me to the ground and starts sending a series of punches to my abdomen and two cracks to my jaw which causes a popping sound and excruciating pain but I dare not move. Though this was new, he had never beaten me before I new it was bound to come sometime and so, I lay still because I know if I dare to move or do anything, despite the pain, it will make everything worse.
“You, little, shit, you, fucking, fag, you’re, the, fucking, reason, your, mom, got, sick, you, asshole!” He screamed at me in between punches. Blaming me for my mother’s sickness was not new. He blamed me for my mom’s cancer that is slowly eating away at her at this very moment. My father drinks and acts like she’s already dead but she isn’t, at least to me but to everybody else she’s just a vegetable. She can rarely speak or do anything for that matter and the doctors say there’s nothing they can do.
My dad decided to finish with a hard kick to my crotch and I can’t take it anymore I hunch over on the floor and hold my crotch area and cry in pain.
“I’m going to bed fag, go kill yourself while I’m asleep would ya?!” He slurred and stomped off to his room leaving me in an agonizing ball of pain.
As soon as I was slightly able to stand again I get up and limp my way to my dimmed bedroom, stumbling over piles of clothes on the floor and eventually falling onto my familiar, springy bed and with the dark thoughts of suicide I drift off to sleep.

Notes

Yeah so this is my second story and i'm hoping its gonna turn out alright errm thanks for reading bye.