Every Chapter

Chapter Two

I'm jostled and confused when I awoke the next morning inside my room. I remembered everything, the struggle, the dead man and Ian. I remembered him shoving my bike into the back seat of his black Tahoe and climbing into the passenger seat for the silent ride home. He hadn't tried to speak to me, not that it was an issue. I couldn't have formed words then if my life depended on it. Instead, he stared out of the car window one way with a frown, and I stared out of the other numb.

I returned home and went straight to bed, ignoring everyone who wanted to question me, ignoring my father who wanted to place me on a concussion watch. I didn't care to process what had happened that night. All I wanted to do was sleep, wake up and it all be a memory. But that isn't the case, I'm different now. I washed off all of the numbness of seeing the man killed. Scrubbed it off inside the shower and pushed It down inside of myself. Somewhere near the sight of seeing my mother dead. Somewhere I knew I could avoid it. 

I had to calm my steps as I walked from my room and down the stairs. I'm desperate for answers and know if I busted into my father's office in such a frantic way, I would get none. Security had been ramped up throughout the estate. All dressed head to toe in suits with earpieces to communicate with one another. All unmovable and barley acknowledging me. I almost ran into two that were loitering outside of my door and after last night the presence of the people did not calm me, in fact there was the opposite effect. If it weren't for me being set on getting an answer I may have returned to the comfort of my room and avoided them all. 

 I walked slowly from my room, and down the winding marble staircase, remaining vigilant to all the people I passed on my way to my father's office that is directly off to the right after the dissent from the stairs. Usually at this time if my father was home, he would have a quiet breakfast in his office alone, with the doors open in case someone needed him. But today the large doors to his office are drawn shut and I can hear his shouting from outside. It is a terrible time for me to enter, but it doesn't matter. If my father got into a shouting mood, he would stay in one. The way he is now will be the way he is in a few hours. 

I'm not some teenager anymore; I'm an adult. An adult that had been attacked last night and saw a man killed. More than ever, I deserve any answers they could give. To my surprise when I twisted the golden handle, it's unlocked. The dark oak door creaked open, and the shouting ceased as soon as I pushed into it. Three men were in the room with my father Forks, all men I recognized from his personnel. Including Ian. 

 "Quinn." Forks said, notably stifling back his anger, attempting to smother it with a face of concern. The deep lines in his face hardening to show his worry lines. I ignored the notion and stepped inside. Eyeing the men, the entire time. John, Lucia, and Ian looked at the floor with a means of respect.

 But I watched them close enough to catch Ian looking up at me with the same disdain as he has numerous times before. I almost snapped on him but thought better of it being that I'm here to get answers and taking a detour from that to screech at Ian won't get me anywhere with my father. So instead, I stifled down the words and gave him the same look he is fixing onto me before turning to my father.