And Love Is Not A Choice~A Ryden Fanfiction

There're Way Too Many References In This Chapter to Choose Just One As The Title

RYRO'S POV

I walk home from Brendon's house as slowly as I possibly can, thoughts rushing through my mind as I do so.

God, my dad is gonna kill me.

What is he gonna do to me this time?

Should I go through the back door?

Maybe I can climb into my bedroom window with that ladder I left beside the house.

Is he sober?

Will he even listen to my explanation?

I try to think on the bright side for once, but the only bright side I can see is my father being gone.

Maybe he's out somewhere.

Maybe he's at the bar.

Maybe he's passed out drunk.

Maybe he's dead.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe.

I approach the two-story white house with the brown roof and just stare at it. The shingles are hanging off the roof in a way that it looks like the slightest touch will knock them down. The paint on the sides of the the house is chipping and peeling and revealing a light, sky blue color underneath. The house would be nice with a little fixing, but of course my alcoholic loser of a father is too lazy and drunk all the time to put any effort into it.

He works as a mechanic from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. from Monday to Friday in this own business. He makes pretty good money, but he always spends it away on nightclubs, beer, and vodka. Unfortunately for me, he's agitated most of the time, even when he is drunk. To be honest, he's the worst when he's drunk; he's l drunk most of the time, too. The bad part about this is that he likes to take it out on me.

I walk up to the door and hesitantly put my hand on the doorknob. I hate having to feel like an alien in my own house. Being the hesitant alien that I am, I slowly turn the doorknob and push the door open, causing it to creak on its hinges.

When I get inside, I look around the living room and kitchen, but see no sign of my father. I almost sigh in relief until none other than George Ross II walks into the room, two empty vodka bottles in hand; from what I can tell, he's off his head drunk.

"So Ryan. Finally decide to show up, huh?"

I just stand in shock. Sure he's an alcoholic, but he's never drunken that much at one time before....except for....

I look over at the calendar and see the date with a little X on it.

My mother's birthday.

The day she left.

The day she disappeared and nobody knows where to.

October 15.

"Well? Ryan? Gonna answer me or what? Not even a hello for your dear old father?"

"Hello, George."

"Don't use that tone with me young man."

He laughs at his own attempt to sound like an actual father.

"Where have you been all night, son?"

"With a friend. But I do see what you have been doing all night."

I gesture to the empty bottles in his hand.

"Oh, what? These? I started these this morning! I was with a friend lays night, too. Oh, boy, was she fun. She was sooooo fun."