𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐀𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫 (1)

seventeen*

*This chapter contains only mildly sexual content. It also hints at sexual assault so if that's something that might be triggering, don't hesitate to click off.

I took a deep breath, readying myself to enter the interview room. I smoothed down my skirt and quickly brushed through my hair with my fingers. When I had prolonged the inevitable for as long as I could, I pushed open the door, ignoring the slight tremble in my fingers.

For someone who had been so vocal moments earlier, he didn't seem to have much to say now that we were sat face to face.

"I'm listening," I said impatiently, "This is your one chance."

"I'm so sorry about Goldie, Adeline. She was good to you."

I scoffed, taken aback by his audacity, "How do you know that she died? How do you know where I work for that matter?"

He sighed, locking his fingers together, "I've had people watching you," he admitted sheepishly.

I cursed, rubbing my temple with my fingers, unable to comprehend what I was hearing, "You've been stalking me?" I shook my head, incredulous, "Maybe I should get that restraining order."

"Please, Addy, let me explain," he begged, reaching across the table.

I flinched at his use of my nickname and recoiled from his touch, "Explain yourself then."

"I didn't abandon you."

"I think you did," I scoffed.

"Yes," he admitted, "But not the way you think," he began, "I had no choice."

I sighed at his vagueness, "Get to the point."

"I'm a drunk," he looked down at his hands, "I was then and I am now."

I suddenly felt very afraid. Here was the man I hated and yet I feared we had more in common than I would like to admit, "What does that have to do with anything?" I asked bitterly.

"Everything," he said as a distant expression clouded over his features, "Everything."

I tapped my fingers impatiently against the table, willing him to hurry up.

He sensed my impatience, "I would have these moods. They felt black and endless. I wasn't myself."

My heart hammered inside of my chest like a wild bird in a cage, "What did you do?" I asked uncertainly.

He shifted in his seat, "Do you still have that scar on your arm?"

I rolled up my left sleeve, "My dog bite?"

"It's not a dog bite, Addy."

"Yes, it is," I insisted, "It's from a German Shepard."

"No," he shook his head sadly, "I did it."

I blinked at him, dumbfounded, "You stabbed me?"

"It was an accident, well truthfully I'm not sure —it was during one of my moods. But I have to believe it was an accident."

"What the fuck?" I exclaimed.

"Language," he warned.

I gestured to my arm in disbelief, "You stabbed me and you want to lecture me on my language? Now is not the time to want to be a parent!"

He slammed his fist down on the table, making me jump, "I raised you for five years. I wasn't always in one of my moods, Adeline. I read you 'The Secret Garden' every night for five years. I took you to the zoo, I took you to the beach! I gave you that necklace," he pointed to the shell necklace that I always wore, "I named you, Adeline."