𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐌𝐄

─ ❝ act iii ❞

⎡ act iii - broken home ⎦

┊❝ I hate that you look just like your mother ❞┊

── SHUTTING the door of her car and locking the doors, (Y/N) steadied herself after the humiliating first day of school she had. Not only did she cower away from Dylan every time she met his gaze, but the sight of his dark-haired friend who she always seemed to catch lurking just out of the corner of her eyes set her on edge. Now, she had to face her father, that is, if he were even home from work.

He rarely seemed to be home.

She knew why to a certain extent, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

"I'm home," she still called upon opening the door and closing it behind her, slipping her shoes and coat off before wandering further into the house for any sigh of life. "Father?"

Waiting a few beats for an answer, she only wilted in disappointment when it didn't come. She already knew this would happen. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, meeting her own (E/C) eyes, she let out a sigh as she rubbed the back of her neck, feeling a swirl of emotions that she could quite pinpoint. Shaking away any other thoughts of her emotionally distant father, she allowed her feet to take her to the kitchen, the wood squeaking slightly as she walked, to grab herself a quick snack from the pantry before ascending the stairs to her room.

Her room was rather spacious, holding a large bed set in the corner with a nightstand beside it, a closet opposite that and a dresser to the right of it. Her feet sunk into the fluffy carpets as she approached her closet, throwing the clothes she wore to school to the floor before stepping into the bathroom adjoined to her room, sighing in relief as soon as the hot water of the shower hit her skin.

This feels good.

I needed this after my stressful day.

Shampooing and conditioning her hair in a relaxing manner before soaping up her body to clean and shave, she then completely rinsed off before turning the water off and stepping out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around her wet form and drying off, she had just finished slipping on some cozy pajama's and her skincare before she heard the front door open and heavy footfalls follow soon after.

Her expression fell.

Father's home.

Slowly putting her supplies away and hanging her towel up, she quietly descended the stairs to see her father standing just in the doorway shedding his coat and sliding his shoes off just as she did. He looked as presentable as he always did with an unwrinkled black suit, a smoothened tie, and classy dress shoes. Not only that, but his physical appearance of unblemished skin, a clean shaven beard, tidy black hair—not a hair straying from its original position—and dark eyes sat behind a pair of black-framed glasses only added to his neatness.

His eyes then met (Y/N)'s, and she couldn't stop herself from immediately lowering his gaze.

"Hello, (Y/N)," he greeted, resting his suitcase and suit's jacket down on one of the dining table's chairs before loosening his tie.

"Hello... Father," she responded, her voice lowering into a murmur on the second word.

"I'm rather tired, so, I won't be making dinner tonight," he announced whilst rolling his neck, a deep sigh escaping his lips before he took out his wallet and slapped some money on the table. "Order something for yourself, or don't. Just don't bother me, and don't come into my room. Goodnight."

"Goodnight..." she returned the word as she stepped aside to allow him to brush past her.

He then stopped.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

"Every day... you look more and more like her," he commented after a moment of silence, his entire expression crumpling into pain. "I hate that you look just like your mother."

With that, he continued on, and (Y/N) knew that he didn't even spare a glance back before entering his room and slamming the door behind him.

She bit back her tears.

She should've been used to this, but could any child get used to their parents' resentment?

She certainly couldn't.

She wasn't sure if she ever could.

Ignoring the cash on the table, her appetite thoroughly soured, she instead merely locked the door, turned off the downstairs lights, and returned to her room. Collapsing onto her back and staring up at the ceiling with a completely bothered expression, she wondered what she could do to improve her life. How could she get her father to love her again? To even like her again? What could she do to feel safe at school? What could she do to get Dylan and his group of delinquents to leave her alone?

Was there anything?

Or did she have to accept the rather dreary reality fate decided to deal her?

Before (Y/N) could even try to answer her own question, a small ding from her phone on her nightstand drew her attention. Reluctantly sitting up and scooting towards the edge of her bed, she picked up her phone and immediately almost dropped it when seeing who had texted her.

_________________

Text Message
Today 7:47 PM

Dylan: This is Dylan. I gave your number to Ian, too, so don't be surprised by an unknown number suddenly popping up

Dylan: Let's have fun tmmr

_________________

Staring at her phone so intensely the screen could've had a hole melted into it by the time she looked away, (Y/N) wanted to groan and have her bed swallow her whole. Everything was unwinding far too quickly for her liking, and just the thought made her want to tear her hair out.

Not that she would.

She very much liked her hair.

Ignoring the text, knowing nothing good would come out of either provoking him or annoying him, she set her phone down and instead plopped down at her desk to begin working on her homework. When she was done, it was a bit before 9:00, but by then, she was completely exhausted and decided that instead of dragging out the next couple of hours, she would just go to bed early.

Flicking her light off and snuggling under her covers, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

__________________________________

To be continued...