𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐌𝐄

─ ❝ act xxiv ❞

⎡ act xxiv - yearning ⎦

┊❝ He just hates me ❞┊

── WHEN the front door opened an hour or so later to announce the arrival of her father, (Y/N) was still curled up into a ball on the floor. By that time, however, she was laying down on her side since her bottom had started to hurt due to sitting for so long, still not able to harness the energy to get up and greet her father since he most likely would hardly acknowledge her presence.

He'll probably just go to his room like always.

Yeah...

Just like always.

Soon enough, she heard her father's footsteps on the stairs before they disappeared into his room, then echoed by the shutting of his door. Exhaling softly, (Y/N) shifted over on her back to stare blankly at her ceiling before turning her head to stare at her bag which still contained the dress she would be wearing to Kira and Alina's birthday. In all honesty, after that tense confrontation with Ian and Dylan, she didn't want to go, but in reality, she had a feeling that if she did, she would just be playing right into their hands. If she could, she wanted to desperately avoid that option at all cost.

After a few mor minutes of feeling sorry for herself, she decided that she was done with moping and should get up to fix herself a glass of water to focus on her studying. Rubbing her eyes whilst exiting her room, she then stiffened when passing by her father's door. Her father was crying just on the other side of the door, and he never cried, at least not that she could recall.

He hadn't even cried when his wife left.

But maybe (Y/N) just hadn't been paying close enough attention to notice that he did.

And still was.

Going against her better judgement not to disturb him, (Y/N) rapped her knuckles against the door and called out, "Father? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, (Y/N)!" He yelled from the other side, his malevolent tone making her flinch.

...he's lying.

But I don't really want to go in.

What would be the point?

"Okay..." she muttered softly as she drifted away from his door.

Why doesn't he ever talk to me about her?

It's not like me and her look the same since, if anything, I look more like him. I don't understand why he always say I do.

Maybe...

He just hates her and her child.

He just hates me.

Pushing such thoughts out of her mind, (Y/N) retrieved her water like she had meant to before returning to her room to start on her homework. Since her load was light that night, she was finished in thirty minutes, allowing her to drift back downstairs to find something to eat since it was obvious that her father wouldn't be cooking that night. Merely warming up some of the leftovers from the fridge, she took her plate and sat down on the couch to catch up on her (favorite show). Setting into her spot, she raised a brow when noticing, humorously enough, that an indentation was starting to form due to her homebody-like tendencies.

Chuckling, she started her show.

Sinking into the soft black cushions whilst setting a pillow over her crossed legs as a table of some sort for her plate, she ate and watched in silence. Just as she was getting comfortable, a loud clatter from upstairs made her jolt. Confused, she tilted her head to see up the stairs only to find her father walking down towards her, his dark eyes flicking up briefly to meet hers before turning away.

She too turned her attention away.

When seeing her father in this specific mood, it was just in her favor not to engage.

Taking a bite of her food, waiting for her father to return back to his room after grabbing whatever he needed, she flinched when he instead sat down on the opposite end of the couch from her. Staring at him from the corner of her eye, she spotted a full bottle of some sort of alcohol in his hand while a glass rested in his other hand, both however filled with the tannish liquid.

"Can I help you, (Y/N)?" He started after taking a sip from his glass.

"Huh?"

"You've been staring at me, and not the TV," he sighed in annoyance at the fact he had to explain. "So, can I help you? If not, quit it."

"...sorry," she mumbled, turning away quickly.

A sort of tense silence settling between them as her show continued onwards, the blue glow of the screen casting eerie shadows within the living room. Finishing her food before setting her plate on the small table next to the hand rest, (Y/N) debated whether or not to tell her father about the party Alina and Kira were planning Friday night. After all, she knew how much he hated to be informed of plan on a short notice.

"Father, can I ask you something?" She started softly, her eyes still focused on the screen.

"What?" He muttered.

"On Friday, a few of my friends were planning a birthday party, and they invited me to go..." she continued with a small exhale of breath, trailing off since she wasn't sure if she could continue her question due to the stifling silence.

"...and you want to attend?" Her father finished for her as he propped his head up.

"Yes, please..."

"No," he scowled.

"What?" She snapped her head up, confused by his rejection. "Why not?"

"If it's a party, it's likely there will be alcohol, drugs, and sex, and I'm not going to allow you to get caught up in that shit," he uttered with a tone that demanded complete and utter obedience. "Whoever these 'friends' of yours are, are probably using you just to get you high and do something stupid."

"What?" (Y/N) shook her head in disbelief at his words. "They're not like that!"

"I know teenagers, and I know their mindset," he spat as he abruptly stood up. "Don't even think of bringing this up again. My decision is final."

With that, he left.

(Y/N) sat there, wanting to cry all over again.

I really... hate this.

__________________________________

To be continued...