Maroon Nights | A Short Story [COMPLETE]

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The door was silent as it fell open, not a squeak or a scratch to signal my entry. I hesitated by the doorway, unable to see my father past the foyer. But I knew he was there.

Stepping inside quietly, not wanting to wake the rest of my family, I gently close the door. I stood still, debating on whether I should sprint for the stairs and hide away in my room or confront my dad now, at almost two in the morning. While I hadn't felt it while I was at the lake with Cameron, I was exhausted.

But before I could go one way or the other, my dad made the decision for me. "Come, Rebecca."

He didn't sound angry, but I knew that it was all brewing inside. Popping my thumbs nervously, I headed toward the living room.

I stopped at the edge of the room, scared to walk in any further. The silence only magnified my nerves and my knees were shaking so bad, I felt like they were about to collapse out from underneath me. I knew that my father could tell I was there, but his back was to me as he sat, straight backed, on the couch.

Finally, his quiet gruff voice broke across the silence. "Where did you go, Rebecca?"

I honestly had been expecting him to ask this, but hearing him actually say it caught me off guard. He rarely did as I expected him to.

Shifting my weight uncomfortably, I whispered. "The lake."

"And why were you there?"

I opened my mouth but hesitated. I wanted to lie, to invent some tale about needing to get out of the house so I could focus better on my studies, but that sounded like a horrible excuse, even to me. Bowing my head, I told him the truth. "I went to meet with some friends."

He said nothing in return, just stared at the electric fireplace that had been off for the entirety of the warm summer.

Finally, he stood and slowly walked around the opposite end of the couch. When I eventually saw his face, I tried not to flinch. His eyebrows were knotted, a sure sign that he was furious despite his, so far, calm demeanor.

He didn't stop walking closer until he towered over me, making me want to step back in fear. "You didn't used to act so reckless. These friends of yours are rubbing off on you, aren't they?"

I clenched my jaw, my indignation flaring. "Not in a bad way."

"I disagree. This disrespect and disobedience does not show any honor."

Honor is overrated, I thought angrily, but held my tongue. Instead I said, "I understand that what I did was wrong and I'm sorry, but maybe if you hadn't treated me so unfairly recently, I wouldn't have done it."

I knew that even these controlled, precise sentences had crossed a line by the tensing of his neck muscles and the ease that dropped from his face. "I do what I do to make sure you don't do things like this! Your behavior is unacceptable and I must discipline you correctly or you will only continue to go on in your wretched ways."

"Wretched? If anything, Oliver is the one who acts like a wretch! He flings food across the dining room table and you just give him a little pat on the head and a 'good aim' smile!"

He stepped closer and I tried not to lose my nerve though my heart was hammering in my chest. "We are not talking about Oliver. He is a different matter."

"Why?" I screamed, not caring who heard me at this point. All my pent up anger from years of unfair treatment was being released. "Is it because he's a boy? Because he's younger? What is it that makes him so perfect in your eyes and makes me look like a incometant hag?"

"We are not talking about Oliver!" he yelled back. "We are talking about your outrageous manners recently."

"Because having friends is outrageous," I growled sarcastically.