𝒫𝑒𝓇𝒻𝑒𝒸𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝒲𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 {𝒜.𝒟.𝒞 𝓍 𝒴𝑜𝓊}

four

Knocks appear at my door causing my pen to stop writing and my head to lift. There my eyes lock with my father's. "Oh you're up," he said and I shrug.

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep," I respond closing ny journal and shoving it into my book pack before looking back at my father.

"Well how long you been up? Or were you up since you got home from work?"

"Pretty much," I respond more so to his last question. He nods and looks to the ground. "You okay dad?"

My father nods his head but he avoids eye contact. "Yeah I'm all good- Hey it's raining out. Is Kat picking you up?"

"Oh no. She had to go in early for some club," I respond pushing myself up from my bed, just standing on the mattress that sat on the ground.

"Well I can drive you so you don't have to walk and catch a cold."

"Are you sure? You just got home from work. I don't-"

"Y/N, it's fine," my father says cutting me off. His voice was gentle but I knew he was tired. But I don't fight him on this like I normally would. I just nod and point towards my closet.

"Okay, just let me change. I'll be down in a sec." My father nods meeting my eyes. He gives me a small smile nodding before he turns and heads out the room. I look away from my door and head towards my closet. I slip off my pants and grab a different pair of joggers before grabbing a black colored hoodie. I slip it on and place the hood up. After I slip on my shoes and quickly head back over to my bed and grab my phone and book bag, afterwards finally heading down stairs.

There I find my father sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands. I clench my jaw and pause at the bottom of the stairs a moment before finally walking forward making the floor creak. I pause and see my father pick up his head, locking our eyes. He stands up and nods grabbing his keys. He says nothing as he motions for me to come on. I nod and we head out the door.

"Toby still at the neighbors?" I ask as we get into the car.

"Yeah. Mrs. Peters said he was welcomed to stay today and tomorrow as well," my dad informed me and I nod leaning back in the seat as the car moves down the street.

"Big case?" I ask looking out the window.

"Something like that," my father responds, a dreadful tone within his voice. I nod and stay silent. He never did like talking about his cases especially when they involved kids. They tore him apart. I remember once he came home really late. Mom asked him what was wrong and he began saying it was a case that involved a little girl. At the time I was 7. He never gave any details. I'm sure it was to protect my mom and me since I liked to eavesdrop from time to time. But I just wish he'd talk to me, not about cases but more about how he was feeling. I knew he was tired. I knew mom passing was hard on him, it was hard on me. But he just won't talk.