Blast of a Past. | Michael Afton x Reader | vamppilled

Chapter 3: Dinner's Done.

Chapter Trigger Warning :
Verbal Abuse. Read with Caution.

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𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:
" Father - The Front Bottoms. "
1:10  ────●─────── 3:49
    ◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ

💡

I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense that something bad is to come. My stomach felt like it was being stirred around, the nausea beginning to rise. I quickly pushed the feelings away as I took out my keys and unlocked my front door.

The fresh scent of chicken wafted through the air, telling me dinner was cooking. I lazily dropped my bag aside, taking off my earphones - that currently played 'Black Sheep, Metric' - to hear the TV play in the distance.

I walked into the sitting room, glancing at my snoring Mom. She slept awkwardly on the couch, probably having fallen asleep while watching TV. I couldn't blame her though - she does a lot for the family, dedicating every second of her day to making things perfect.

"Mom." I shook her, quietly calling out for her to wake up. She woke up dazed, her eyes half lidded as she brought her gaze to me. It hurt me a little, seeing her so exhausted. I'll just make dinner myself, I thought as I gently lifted her by her arm, guiding her to her room. "Let's get you to bed."

I slowly took her upstairs, letting her lay down as I tucked her in. She smiled softly in her sleep as I left the room.

I continued to make dinner for myself, cooking the chicken with orecchiette pasta. I left portions for my parents, before grabbing my own bowl of food and turning to walk to my room. Rattling keys came from the front, aggressively opening the door.

I looked up to see my dad, practically falling over his own two feet. He had that cross, serious yet dazed look on his face as he struggled to close the door. I noticed his tie was undone, slung around his shoulders and his hair was messy, the same as his work outfit.

He turned towards me, his eyes half lidded as he stumbled around. He's probably drunk, I thought to myself. I wanted to completely avoid him when he's like this- but it's difficult now that he spotted me.

"Uhm... Hi, Dad." I awkwardly waved, moving out the way as he walked past me into the kitchen. Ignoring me, he poured himself a cup of water, then turning to the food. He took a fork and tried it.

"What... the ffuck is this??!" He spat, fake gagging as he turned to me. Dad refused to ever be happy, generous or proud- Everything was a problem for him, no matter when, where or what.

"It's dinner." I answered, crossing my arms with the bowl still in my hand. He grit his teeth, pointing a finger at me. "This is disgusting! I exxpected m..uch better from you, you ungratefulll.. littlee brat!"

I rolled my eyes, scoffing. I didn't even say anything, and i'm being ungrateful? Dad logic. I decided to just walk upstairs and not engage; it would only enrage him more. I heard him shout names and banging, but I ignored it.

Setting my bowl down, I turned on my dim fairy lights and sat on my bed. I grabbed my headphones from my bedside table, which started to play, "Don't call me babe - Shampoo", Coming to the realisation that I have too many pairs of headphones, earphones and shit.

I grabbed my guitar, taking my pick off the side and beginning to play whatever came to mind.

Music is my escape. Whether it's listening to it, playing it or talking about it, it's my passion. It's what gets me through most days and nights like this, or whatever situation I'm in. Music itself is beautiful, a creation made out of love and passion, so much that it can be shared and felt with others.

After letting off steam through the strings of my guitar, I set it down and changed into a fresh pair of pyjamas, (which wasn't even pyjamas, it was just a massive old shirt and shorts.) I laid down in my bed, taking a deep breath as I got under the covers and drifted off to sleep.

Tomorrow will be better.

💡

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ur dads a prick lmao just like mine !! ( sorry if i projected a lil too much, and i'm sorry for anyone who does go through similar experiences. All will get better soon, reach out to someone trusted. )