Secrets (BxB) ✅

21: repercussions

A/N: abuse trigger warning... 😣
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Zedd

I arrived home in a sweaty mess, my soccer jersey clinging to my back. All I wanted to do was to dive into the shower, the one I had skipped in the changing rooms. I couldn't believe I had run away from Mitch again. But it was easier to believe than to remember that I had willingly kissed him in the middle of the damn oval.

I loved the feeling of his lips and body against mine. But that wasn't the point. The point was that the coach had seen us. And probably a bunch of the guys on the team. And any random person who'd driven past the school. And I was scared shitless. All along I had been distancing myself from Mitch in an effort to protect him, and me, and then I just had to go and risk exposure for both of us.

I wheeled my motorbike around the side of the house and came back around to climb the front steps. My father's car was in the driveway and I grimaced. I didn't want to see him this evening. I went through the front door and kept walking through the kitchen, planning to duck up straight to my room to shower and sneak down later for some food. I was halfway through the kitchen when I heard raised voices in the lounge room.

My mum and father were arguing. They never argued. My mum was always deferential to my father. What was going on? I should have kept going, I should have gone straight to my room as planned. But I was concerned at hearing my mum yelling at my father. So I walked into the room. As soon as my father spotted me he barreled towards me like a raging bull and grabbed the collar of my jersey, pulling so hard that I had to go onto the tip of my toes to avoid being strangled.

"What's going on?" I tried to sound calm.

"Richard, but him down," my mum said warningly.

"Shut up," my father snapped at my mum before shaking me, "How could you?!"

"How could I what?" I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Don't mess around with me boy," my father snarled before slapping me across the face, "You can't hide anymore. I saw you!"

My cheek stung but I looked at my father straight into his eyes.

"I don't know what you are talking about," I replied levelly, even though I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Bullshit!" he growled and shoved me away.

I caught myself on the edge of the coach and was momentarily winded. Something was wrong with my father. More so than usual. There was a look in his eye. A cold look that scared me. I was scared that for the first time, he wouldn't stop.

"Stand up you little ungrateful wretch," my father stalked over to where I was, hoisted me up and slammed my back against the wall.

I had barely caught my breath from the moment before and already he had me pinned again. I didn't know why I didn't fight back then. I probably still had a chance to get away. Maybe I was just in shock. Or I had given up.

"Tell your mother! Tell her what a disgusting piece of shit you are!" my father barked in my face.

I glanced over at my mum who was watching us in horror, her hands over her mouth. For a second I thought she might say something in my defence. But she just stood there. I guess she was scared that her husband would turn his fists on her instead.