A Gentle Collision

Chapter 12

The house felt colder than usual as Freen stepped through the door. She had hoped the evening would go differently, that maybe, just maybe, she could find a little peace after the tumult of the day. But she already knew what awaited her. Her father's moods never shifted, not for anyone, and tonight, he was especially angry.

The front door creaked shut behind her, and the quiet hum of the house felt overwhelming. Every step she took felt like it echoed louder than the last. She swallowed, gathering what little courage she could muster as she made her way through the dimly lit hallway. It felt suffocating. The air thick with the tension she knew all too well.

Then she heard it

“You think I’d just let you go to some party, especially after you went and asked me about it in front of that girl?” Her father’s words cut through the air with sharp precision, each one punctuated with bitterness. His eyes were fire, cold and furious. “You really think I couldn’t see what you were doing? You knew I couldn’t say no in front of her, didn’t you?”

Freen’s stomach dropped, her pulse pounding in her ears. She wanted to shrink away, to hide from the truth that was so evident in his voice. She had known, the moment she asked, that he wouldn’t deny her in front of Becky. She knew he wouldn’t look weak in front of someone else, especially not in front of Becky.

"I didn't mean—" Freen started, but her father cut her off with a sneer.

“Don’t even try to lie to me. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re trying to get what you want by playing me against her.” His words were like poison, each one dripping with disdain. “You’ve always been like this—manipulative, sneaky. You just wanted to make sure I looked like a fool, didn’t you? Make me seem like the bad guy.”

Freen’s heart slammed against her ribcage, but she remained still, staring at her father’s angry face, too afraid to say anything more. She had crossed a line by asking him in front of Becky, and now, there was no way to take it back. The anger radiating off her father was palpable, and the room seemed to shrink as his rage grew.

"You think you're so clever," he muttered, stepping closer. "You think you can just get away with everything. But you're wrong, Freen. You're not going anywhere tonight. Not after pulling a stunt like that."

The sting of his words felt like a slap, but there was something deeper in them, a sharp, cutting betrayal that she hadn’t expected. He wasn’t just angry because she had asked; he was angry because she had dared to try to manipulate him in front of someone else. And he was angry because she had made him look weak in front of Becky.

Freen opened her mouth to protest, but the words died in her throat. She knew better than to argue. She knew it wouldn’t matter. Whatever she said wouldn’t change how he felt.

“Go upstairs. Now,” her father snapped, his voice cold and final.

Freen didn’t argue. She simply nodded, a small movement that felt like submission. She turned away and walked slowly toward the stairs, the weight of her father’s words pressing down on her like a physical force. She didn’t dare look back.

The stairs creaked under her feet as she climbed, each step heavier than the last. She reached the top and paused for a moment, breathing in the stale air. She didn’t want to go to her room. She didn’t want to be alone in the silence of her thoughts, trapped in this house with no way out.

But where else could she go?

She didn’t go to her room. Instead, she found herself standing in front of the bathroom door. She reached for the handle, her hand trembling as she turned it. The door clicked open, and she stepped inside, the cold tile of the bathroom floor against her bare feet a small comfort.

She closed the door behind her, the sound of the click almost deafening in the stillness. She leaned against the sink, closing her eyes, and for the first time all evening, she allowed herself to breathe.

The tears came before she could stop them.

She hated this. She hated how weak she felt, how trapped she was in this house with a man who couldn’t see her for who she was, only for what he wanted her to be.

And it hurt. It hurt so much to know that he would never see her as anything but a disappointment.

Freen wiped her eyes quickly, trying to pull herself together. She didn’t have the energy for this. Not anymore. Not when everything in her wanted to break down, wanted to scream at the injustice of it all.

But she couldn’t. Not here. Not with him so close.

The quiet of the bathroom seemed to suffocate her as she stood there, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t recognize the girl staring back at her. She wasn’t the girl she used to be. The girl who had dreams, who had hopes. Now, all that was left was someone who had to play by the rules of a game that wasn’t even hers.

Freen exhaled shakily, feeling the weight of her father’s words pressing in on her. The sting of his anger still burned in her chest. There was no escaping him. Not now. Not ever.

But as she turned to leave the bathroom, she caught her reflection one last time. The girl in the mirror looked defeated. She looked like someone who had given up.

And Freen didn’t know if she could ever find the strength to fight back.