Loving Kinnick (Rewritten)

I Always Remember A Pretty Face

(Here it is - the start of a newly rewritten story! Thank you to everyone who came back for a second go-around! So far, I have changed a few things! I cannot wait to see what you think<3 Thank you for being the best readers anyone could ask for. Your support has affected me in ways that I will never be able to explain!)

The cold weather made me believe it was the reason I started shaking. The eighteen-degree wind that's quickly descending with every passing second is why I am trembling and that it has nothing to do with me standing here. Alone. Where my dad left me.

He told me self-defense classes aren't that scary. It was as if he thought my worries would be gone with the wind, and my anxiety would catch the next bus to the town of Non-Existent. Does he want me to throw him a party for signing me up? I refuse to believe he didn't notice my reaction. I practically quivered like a scared dog with its tail in between its legs.

I tried getting myself out of this situation. Believe me. When I refused to move, dad told me he'd push me out on his dolly like I was Hannibal Lector. After a five-minute drive of doing nothing but complaining, we arrived. And with protest and difficulty, dad shoved me out of the cab of his police cruiser. Not really, though. I wish he would have. I could have faked an injury and got myself out of situations like this one.

Yet here I am, staring at this brick building oozing with moisture from the rain. The red neon sign dangling above me reading 'Delphi Boxing' made me think I was joining an underground society.

Hopefully, the people inside can't see me. I've been waiting for my dad to come back. All I wanted was his car to pull around the corner. He would jump out and tell me on a TV show, and this is all a prank. Fifteen minutes have passed, according to my phone. And I realized something - maybe I am not on a TV show.

A massive sigh left my mouth. The ghost of hot air left the safety of my lips, floating away into the city. It left me alone, just like my dad. I contemplated walking into the city. All I had to do was be back in this spot within an hour. He would never suspect a thing.

Self-defense classes may not be a bad idea, though. Dad wanted me to know how to defend myself - and not because he knows my ex-boyfriend slipped something into my drink and how traumatically scarred I am after the events of that night - but because he thinks I am weak. In which I definitely am, but whatever.

I regret going to that party and how I trusted his friends to get me a drink. When momma told me to trust my instincts, I didn't know what she meant. I should have, though. My stomach started tangling itself into knots of anxiety that were impossible to free. I felt the need to run away but stayed for the same reasons that made me want to leave - my ex.

Most of all, I regret calling my mom to pick me up after everything happened, or I think I called my mom. That is what Chrissy told me, at least. Other than the pain I felt in the morning; I couldn't remember what happened with Warren. Dad said he pulled me from the car, but if he blames me for her death, why didn't he pull out my mom first?

And that night was the reason my dad hasn't been able to look at me the same. I never told him about Warren. I didn't want him to think I was making an excuse for her death because it was inexcusable. He doesn't need the extra baggage anyway. So, instead of telling him the truth, he assumes I drank too much. He believes I rebelled against him, and that resulted in the death of his wife. Whatever helps him sleep at night, I guess.

If it wasn't for Warren Michael, I could walk into a room full of men without assuming the worst. I'd be able to go to the store alone without having a panic attack. As much as I hate to admit it, I also thank Warren. If my assault didn't happen, I wouldn't know my own strength.