A Fighter's Love

A Fighter's Love - Chapter 7

Officially on summer break! But I'm about to go on vacation to the beautiful country of Costa Rica for some time so no updates on any of my books for a while. Other than that, I don't have much to say...except for CHECK OUT MY BOOK THE BEACH HOUSE! :)

(Sorry for any errors! Camille's dad on the side! He totally matches the description.)

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A Fighter's Love - Chapter 7

 No.

 Fuck no.

 This could not be happening.

It was a dream.

Yes, that’s what it was.

I had fallen asleep in Mrs. Colling’s class again and had snoozed off while she was droning on about some shit I didn’t care about. I was going to wake up anytime soon and know that all this was unreal.

But when I blinked, he was still sitting there in front of me, his mouth pulled into a tight smile and his hands clenched together. He knew exactly what was going on and he had the nerve to smile like everything was fucking okay?

I grit my teeth together so hard I could hear the grinding of my molars. Everything felt dizzy and it suddenly became really, really hard for me to breath. You would think I would know how to control my own respiratory system considering that I had been doing it for 17 years now, but no.

All the air I had managed to get in abruptly left my body, leaving me weak and shaky. Was this really him? My father?

Yes, you dumbass, my subconscious sneered at me.

 I struggled to find anything, anything that would tell me that this man sitting in front of me was not the same person who had raised me for ten years and then just left.

“Camille,” he said in a strained voice, looking uncomfortable. He hadn’t changed at all. I was young when he left, sure, but I still knew how my own father looked like. He still had a full head of thick brown hair and his laugh lines were clear from my angle. I noticed how he chose to grow his beard out a little no matter how many times my mom had told him to shave it off when I was younger because it always made her itch when he nuzzled her face.

The image of my mom and dad cuddling by the kitchen counter on Sunday morning while my brother and I ate chocolate chips pancakes was what made me come back to real life.

I high-tailed it out of there as fast as I could, pushing past the crowd of people who were still trying to welcome me to their stupid posse. There was no way I was staying here.

I had to get out.

I just had to.

If I stayed here any longer, I was going to choke myself.

A strangled cry ripped its way out of my throat as I stumbled around the wide hallways. Goddamn this house and its confusing rooms. It took me a full ten minutes to maneuver around the spacious mansion before I spotted the sliding glass door that led to the back patio.

A sparkling, small pond complete with lily pads and rocks greeted me as I took a seat on a nearby wooden bench and buried my head in my hands. What the hell was going on? I needed someone to explain to me why the fuck my dad was in there but there was no I was going to go back in that house.

Not yet.

I had to pull myself together first.

Angrily, I swept my hands through my hair and ignored the short stabs of pain as they caught on the unruly knots. I counted backwards from a hundred to calm myself but when that didn’t work I stood up and started pacing.