As much hate Is to love

Chapter 3 - Ocean eyes

Celiné

I'm glaring at him.. watching him closely.. watching his moves. He kneels down to me so we are facing each other. The silent was thick until..

"What the fuck are you doing here at this hour?"

He mutters bitterly.

I stare at him with confusion and annoyance. I think to myself, who the hell would ask that?

"It's not like I wanted to be harassed!"

I respond in irritation. I was thankful that he saved me but his attitude is a hand full. He rolls his eyes at me, he then snatches the blade from my hand.

"Hey! What the fuck!"

I yell, I stare at him and stand up. He towers over me. He stares at me with his ocean blue eyes...

His lips slightly parted as he glares down at me..
I'm almost zoned out until he breaks the silence

"Go home, Now. It's not safe here"

He says sternly as he still stares me with the same deep turquoise eyes.. I'm so confused.. flustered.. and a little ashamed. I had so many questions to ask, but I barley know the guy.

So It was best not to question. But I still wanted that blade back..

"I want the blade back before I leave"

I add as I cross my arms as I nod at the knife in his hand, and stare at him with a cold stare. With a bit of sarcasm.

I rolls his eyes at me, his face still blank. His eyes are showing no hint of emotion.

"Just, go home. Stop being stubborn.."

He repeats, putting the blade In his pocket and flexes his jaw. I stare at him with annoyance.. I pick up my bag off the dirty stiff ground and make my way out of the alley...

I feel his eyes on me, he still stands there.. looking at me, watching my movements carefully.

Eventually he walks away. The shadows swallow him in the moonlight until he's not there.

On my home I think about what happened.. what happened If he didn't come in time?. What was those men planning to do?..

I walk for a while, It's still raining but not as much. Thunder is hearable from a far.

I enter my neighborhood and grab my keys from my bag. I open the front door and lock it.

I take off my shoes and hang my soaked jacket. I turn on the light.. the light shines dimly.

And of course, dad isn't home. Probably at some club drinking his problems away. Spending my life savings on ale and beer..

I see the pile of cans and bottles on the chalky, untouched wooden table. It's raining heavily now. The sound of thunder and rain outside is thick. The silence almost uneasy.

I go upstairs, and head to the bathroom. I take off my damp clothes and put them In the washing machine.

Before I hop in the shower, and gently.. slowly all my weight of pressure and anxiety Is washed off with the lukewarm heated water.

My hair soaked, the two sacks of stress on my shoulders are melting away with pleasure.

I'm humming to Melanie Martinez, "Tag, your it" Is replaying in my head. The lyrics so relatable from the experience today In that alley. And I'm slowly drifted to reality..

I open my eyes, shampoo in my hair. The smell of conditioner and the hot steam from the water is relaxing. I wiggle my toes, as the water flows through my hair down to my feet.

~𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓹~

I plop down on my bed, I'm nearly naked. I'm just in boxers and a bra. I glance at my grey sweat pants and my kinda stained shirt.

That's when I hear front door open...

I rush downstairs to see dad stumbling his way to the hallway. My eyes widen as I see that his face is swollen, badly beaten up and bruised..

He has a busted lip and blood is running down his cheeks and temple. I rush to him.

"What happened!?"

I ask as I look at his tired frame. He looks pissed off, and I'm scared he might hurt me. He ignores my questions and almost falls while walking to the bathroom.

He grabs a wet cloth and wipes his blood off his face. The towel in stained with dark, thick blood. He hisses in pain, as he taps the towel on his face.

I follow him to the bathroom

"Dad! Answer me! What the hell is happening, I—"

He cuts me off before I could finish

"Celiné! Shut up! I swear to god, if you don't pack a suitcase now I'll make sure you end up in a coma again!"

He yells at me with hatred and rage. As his eyes flicker a death stare. I step back.. I wanted to know more.. ask him more. But.. I know the consequences won't be pretty.

So I kept my mouth shut and stomped my way up to my room, slamming my door shut.

I sit down in on my bed. Crawling up into a ball. My arms wrap around my knees and my chest hugging my thighs.

A side In me Is trying to be tough, brave and fearless in this situation. And the other side Is anxious, afraid and confused.

Why did dad ask me to pack a suitcase? We aren't moving? Right? That can't be right.. we can barley pay our house bills..

Something isn't right. And I'm trying to figure it out.

But now, the only thing I'm thinking about is, Where the fuck is my suitcase?...