Ash is a fashion model, not by choice but the desire of his projecting mother. People think he's too cocky for his own good, judging him based on what he posts online. But Ash hates the brush he's been painted with, along with the stereotypes of the...
worthless: (adjective) 1.having no real value or use. 2. (of a person) having no good qualities; deserving contempt.
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Coming back to my father after another unsuccessful day of trying to get Ash to believe me, feels like going to my own personal hell. I'd rather burn at the stake than go home to see my father when all I can think about is Ash and how I've fucked everything up.
One of the only good things in my life. The only person who makes me see things clearly. Who has made me feel like a normal person, that I can achieve things and what my father bullies into me is not true.
It's not true.
When I step through my front door I keep my head down, trying my hardest not to make a sound in case my dad is home from work. He's been at home a lot more than usual and it makes me anxious to be in the same space with him.
Usually it's fine when he doesn't get home till after six but when I get back between three and four, he's already here. Waiting for me.
He's been noticeably angrier than normal and I can't help but think it's my fault. I know he still hasn't forgiven me for getting arrested, for sabotaging my boxing career and putting a pause on fights and competitions.
Hell, I can't even go to the boxing gym because I'm not welcome there.
My father still hates me because of it and I'm not sure if he'll ever come to terms with the fact his son is classed as a criminal.
I reach for the stairs when a hand clasps over my shoulder. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Upstairs to shower."
His fingers dig into my flesh and yanks me backwards. "Training. Now."
I throw off his grip and twist round to him quickly. "Training?" My voice comes out in nothing but a pathetic laugh. "You mean training where you push me around, you hurt me, you fucking bully me on purpose."
My father's nostrils flare at my words. "I'm trying to make you better, to get you in shape from when you're off probation and you can compete. This attitude is the shit side of you, Bodi."
"Have you noticed that since we've been training together I've become worse because you're not a coach!" I yell at him. "You think you know everything but you don't, you know nothing. You just want to hurt me because you're angry at me."
He takes one step closer and backs me up into the wall. "How dare you," he growls. "I've done my absolute hardest for you. I even lost my fucking job for you!"
I blink at his words. He lost his job?
"Why would you lose your job for me?" My voice drops down to a whisper.
"I didn't lose the job you fucking idiot," he grits his teeth and I can smell his beer breath. "You're the one who lost it for me. With your deviant activities, for making me drink, for making me angry. You're the one who did this to me."
