after the death of her mother, leighton's father sends her to a boarding school halfway across the world to be taught a lesson. she knows no one and no one knows her.
but the cherry on top is who her roommate is.
#2 in ptsdawareness
#2 in anxiety
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"i'm not scared of the dark"
-scared of the dark by lil wayne, ty dolla $ign, xxxtentacion
! trigger warning !
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I can feel my father's anger.
My father's voice, laced with disdain, cuts through the air. "You're late, Kai."
"I got caught up with hockey, something you wanted me to do." I mumble, shrugging off my jacket. It's the same old routine. He never lets up.
"You got caught up with hockey?" He scoffs, his eyes narrowing as he steps closer. "You mean you were off wasting time with your good-for-nothing friends."
My hands clench into fists. "They're not a waste of time. They're my friends and I was at practice."
"Friends," he spits the word like it's venom. "They're distractions. You're wasting your potential, Kai. You could be doing so much more. Become a better hockey player."
"Like what, Dad? Like you?" I shoot back, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. "Living in this house, not playing hockey anymore, drinking yourself to sleep every night?"
His face reddens, and I know I've hit a nerve.
But I don't give a flying fuck.
I'm tired.
"You watch your mouth, boy," he growls, stepping even closer until we're almost nose to nose. "You have no idea what it's like to work hard, to sacrifice."
"I know what it's like to be miserable," I snap. "I see it when I look at you."
The slap comes out of nowhere, stinging my cheek and sending a shockwave of pain through my face.
I stagger back, more from the shock than the force of the blow.
"You ungrateful little brat," he hisses. "After everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me? By throwing your life away? Sucking at hockey? I bought you your first ever hockey stick."
I rub my cheek, glaring at him. "I'm not throwing my life away. I'm trying to live it on my own terms. But you can't stand that, can you? You can't stand the thought of me being my own person. And no, Mom bought me my first stick."
"You're a child," he snaps. "You don't know anything about life, about responsibility."
"Maybe not," I say, my voice low and dangerous. "But I definitely know I don't want to end up like you."
His eyes flash with rage, and for a moment, I think he's going to hit me again. But instead, he takes a deep breath, his hands trembling with barely contained fury.
