Handcuffs And Kisses (Series #1)

Chapter 2

Lilian Carson POV

The garden is bathed in a golden glow from the sun. In the distance, birds could be heard chirping. More polished concrete was used to create paths, patios, and planters around the house. There was a huge oak tree in the corner that always seemed ominous. I approach the enormous metal door and ring the bell. The door finally creaks open a few seconds later, revealing a tall, imposing figure. Their grim faces only heighten the menacing atmosphere. The person is none other than Florence. She looks after my dad and I. She is working so hard to take the place of my mother, but it won't work. I move past her without saying a word. I must rehydrate before going to Sam's house. We are going to watch a movie together.

Before leaving the house, I love to take a shower since it gives me energy and makes me feel prepared for anything. I'm looking forward to watching the movie that Sam has in store for me tonight! I believe that taking a stroll in the open air would be a pleasant way to unwind before going to Sam's place. Sam and I are going to watch a nice movie together, and I can't wait to catch up. I will stay at Sam's place tonight, I need to inform him that.

"Wait! How was your counselling going, Lilian?" questioned Florence. I did a U-turn to face her. She neglected to even brush her untidy blonde hair, and her eyes were dreary with black bags below. She appeared worn out as though she hadn't slept the previous night. While I could tell she was upset, I refrained from interfering since I didn't really care.

"That was alright. Eat something; you're looking awful".

It would be better if I didn't inform them that I left the therapy unfinished. I moved in the direction of my bedroom. Although I understand that it would be frustrating for them, I have greatly benefited from leaving the therapy midway. I felt a sense of calm and comfort rush over me as I walked to my room.

"Hey, your father wants to talk to you. He'll be there, at the library." I heard Florence's voice behind me.

Even sleeping is impossible for me. Now what does he want? Meeting dad will be beneficial, as I can inform him of my college and my upcoming move. I should try to communicate with him in a transparent and honest manner.

"Alright, I'd speak with him."

I then proceed to my room and close the door behind me. I fix my gaze on the room. The walls were a dark crimson colour that pulsed in the light, and they were covered in a variety of posters, primarily of cartoons and singers. Black and white pictures of me as a youngster with my mother and father, as well as several Polaroids of me, my friends, and Sam, were displayed on every wall. One bed stood in the centre, its white and fluffy appearance giving it the appearance of a snowdrift. Drapery curtains were used to cover the windows. There was a desk in the corner that was covered in pens and wadded-up bits of paper, and there were shelves against the wall that held a number of books. My walk-in closet and the bathroom are located on the left. With a sizable window on the other wall bringing in natural light, the space felt cozy. With luxurious cushions and a vibrant duvet, the bed was positioned against the wall.

I untie my ponytail and take my clothing off. I really need to take a shower. I enter the bathroom and turn on the faucet, the crystal-clear water begins to fill the tub. I relax as steam rises from the heated water; the soothing warmth wipes away the tension of the day. After a hard day, I enjoy the cool sensation of water streaming down my skin. My muscles relax, and I feel revitalised. My senses are awakened when I lather up with my favourite body wash, leaving me feeling refreshed, and all of my troubles are washed away in the warm water. I change the water's temperature until it is at the ideal temperature. I go in the tub and lie back as the water washes away the day's filth and exhaustion. I pause for a bit to enjoy the sensation.

I take a deep breath and wrap a towel around my body after getting out of the shower. I value the simple luxury of the towel's warmth and smoothness on my skin. I fix my attention on the mirror image. My mother's eyes are no longer recognisable in my big, brown eyes; they appeared lifeless and dreary. My eyelashes are nonexistent, so I'm envious of people who have long, thick ones. My haircut is overdue by a month, so my brown hair appears a little scruffy. I have a straight nose, an elliptical face, and slightly full lips, which resembles mostly with my dad as told to me by my peers. My skin has an olive tone and red cheeks that are sunken in. However, because I have trouble sleeping due to my insomnia, I feel exhausted and drowsy.

Despite my exhaustion, I make an effort to follow a healthy regimen to keep my skin radiant. I constantly use moisturiser and sunscreen, and I also drink enough water to stay hydrated. I've tried a variety of treatments for my insomnia, including meditation and herbal teas. But I have not yet discovered a long-term fix, and I frequently have daytime tiredness.

In quest of some clothing, I entered the walk-in closet. There would have been a disaster here if Florence wasn't there; she would organise each item of clothing in my wardrobe by style, colour, and occasionally brand. I choose a plain-looking, light blue shirt with thin straps and combine it with torn jeans in the same colour. I've previously used a blow dryer to dry my hair. I gave my hair a thorough brushing before tying it up in a sloppy bun and letting a few strands fall on my forehead. I follow that by putting on some thin foundation and lip gloss. Now is the moment to meet Sam. I take my side bag out of my closet and leave my room.

I have to meet Dad before I leave. He would definitely lecture me and talk about unnecessary things. I wish he could just say goodbye and wish me well without the lecture. Nonetheless, it's important to him, so I'll try to listen patiently and respond respectfully. I don't want to make him angry.

My dad's favourite place to be is the library, therefore I'm going there. On the hardwood floor, my 4-inch heels created clicking noises as I walked. I gently tapped the door's dark wooden frame. It took some time before an inside noise could be detected—a faint shuffle. I heard my father's voice calling from behind the door. The door was unlocked, so I twisted the knob, and it clicked open.

As soon as I entered, I could smell the musty aroma of ancient books. The chamber was not illuminated by the sun. Instead, the area was illuminated by the hanging lights from the ceiling. Every part of the space included fake plants, giving it a distinctive and lovely appearance. As the maids normally do that task, the books were neatly arranged in alphabetical order to make it easier for anyone to discover a particular book. My attention was drawn to the lone individual in the middle of the room who was reading "Mein Kampf," Hitler's autobiography, in which he discussed his political beliefs. How I feel about that is unclear. Politics and historical topics are two of my elderly man's passions.

He gave me a soft, almond-eyed gaze as I cleared my throat. His hair is dark with a gunmetal grey undertone and a thinning hairline. He looks good with a goatee. His face is aged and creased. My father wears clothes that are older than he is and are faded in colour. Nonetheless, he enjoys wearing them and only infrequently purchases new clothing. He cherishes his old wardrobes and adheres to the philosophy of using things until they are completely worn out. It's his tiny effort to reduce waste and conserve resources.

He started to say something, but I quickly cut him off.

"Before you say anything, I'm leaving for my college dorm the following week. I believed that now was the ideal time to inform you."

He probably feels resentful because he was unaware of this previously. I really don't want to argue right now. His expression darkened; it appeared like he was in shock. Why shouldn't he be joyful? I lowered my gaze.

He remarked in a quiet, regretful voice, "There is something you need to know."

I won't listen to him if he tells me not to leave my home and just behind. I won't be swayed by whatever he says. His appearance tells me that he will now attempt other tactics to annoy me. His deceptive tactics have worn thin on me, and I will not allow him to continue to influence me.

"What is wrong, Dad? I don't have time to stand here all day, so spit it out."

The corners of his eyes wrinkled, and his brows furrowed together. He doesn't appear to want to talk to me about something. It seemed like an eternity before he finally spoke.

He looked serious and continued, "You are not going to college, Lilian; you are getting married."

My lips parted in disbelief as my heart skipped a beat. Did I heard that right? I must be imagining things.

"Pardon?" I asked as tears began to glisten in my eyes. My hands were trembling, and I was perspiring because it felt like the entire room was whirling around me. My guess is that I am having a panic attack! I made an effort to relax by taking deep breaths and telling myself that the experience was just temporary.

'Marry?' The term keeps popping into my head as I'm trying to think. I never imagined that I would reach this point in my life when marriage would be a real possibility, yet here I am. I'm terrified by the thought of commitment for the rest of my life.

He can't compel me; if he tried, I would flee. I feel disgusted to even call him my dad. I don't belief him, it all must be a joke. Dad is mocking me again.

***
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Panic Attack: A panic attack is a sudden episode of intense fear that triggers severe physical reactions when there is no real danger or apparent cause.

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