𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒
and the Kooks
have no other choice than
living together, sharing
the same island. But this summer,
rivalries reached a peak, and
there's no going back.
In which Margot Maybank tries to fix her brother's mistakes, but not everyt...
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Outer Banks, Maybank's house July 12th, 2020 3:42am
TW: physical arm, feel free to skip it.
As soon as I stepped inside, I knew what would happen. It's like something was in the air, something letting me know that my extra $50 wouldn't be enough to fix what I was about to go through. My father's footsteps echoed through the hallway and I took a deep breath trying not to panic, because I knew sometimes I could handle him. Each step sent a shiver down my spine, until he was in front of me, staring at me without any apparent love in his eyes.
"Margot, where were you?" he asked me.
"I was working, you know?" I showed him the apron which I had in my bag, as a proof, but he didn't seem convinced. "My boss tipped me $50 for helping him more than he expected"
I couldn't help but express pride as I told him this, because as much as I sometimes hated him, I wanted to show him what his daughter was capable of. I didn't want to admit it to myself but a tiny part of me wanted my abusive father to be proud of me.
"You think I believe this shit?" he asked, as he grabbed the money I was showing him and shoved it in his pocket. "You were partying, I know it"
"Partying?" I asked, taken aback.
"Yeah, you stink alcohol," he voiced as he got closer from me and took a deep breath, as if he wanted to make sure he smelled alcohol on my clothes.
Of course he did. I had spent my night making cocktails for customers, serving wine to others, cleaning dirty glasses, staining my apron with many sorts of alcohol. What could I tell him? He seemed very drunk himself, smelled probably worse than me, so my only chance was JJ. I pushed my dad away from me with both of my hands before he could start being violent and rushed towards JJ's room.
My dad ran after me but I was the first one to reach JJ's bedroom but as I swung open the door, my eyes filled up with tears. His bed was empty, my brother wasn't home. As my dad started screaming at me and pulling me by my hair, I wondered why JJ was never there when this kind of things happened to me. But then I got my answer.
My father almost only did this to me when he knew nobody would help. JJ had already beaten him up a few times, to the point where I had been the one driving our abusive dad to the hospital, lying that he had fought in a bar, so that none of us would be in trouble.
That night, for maybe minutes, or hours, my dad hurt me, until he decided he wanted to get some more alcohol and let me go to bed. Well, I didn't actually sleep, because even if I had placed every single furniture of my room against the door and barricaded the window, I feared he'd find a way to come back. After cleaning my wounds, thanks to the first aid kit I had hidden under my bed so long ago that I didn't remember when, I grabbed my phone. I clicked on JJ's name and called him. Even if it was three in the morning, he always responded.
