Orange Eyes (Teen Wolf/Derek Hale)

Chapter 5

Isaac Lahey's P.O.V

The air was thick with tension. Small beads of sweat were slowly making their way down my forehead. Avoiding eye contact, I answered the question.

"Um – so far it's an 'A' in French and a 'B' minus in econ," I spoke gingerly, not wanting to see my father's reaction. Or rather, his actions.

"Oh," he simply started. "What about chemistry?"

I winced, but then hid my face so he wouldn't see it. This is the question I've been trying to avoid.

"I'm not sure," I said, picking my words carefully. "Uh, midterms are in a few days so it could go up."

I played with my fingers whilst he ate his food.

"Well, what's it at now?" he asked, playing concerned parent. He was once like this, but that was a long time ago. Haven't seen the nice man in quite a while.

"The grade?" I asked stupidly.

"Uh, yeah."

"Uh, I'm not sure," I said, shaking my head and looking down at my fingers.

"But you just said it could go up," he replied smartly.

"I just – uh, I meant generally."

"You wouldn't be lying to me, would you, Isaac?" He continued to cut up and eat his food, almost as if he hadn't just asked me a question he knew I would regret answering, but had no choice to.

"No." My voice was getting smaller and smaller, as his was getting less and less patient.

"Then tell me your grade."

"I just told you, I don't know," I lied.

"You wanna take this conversation downstairs?" He asked threateningly. I shook my head. "No? Then tell me your grade, son."

"Dad, the semesters only half over," I said quickly, conveying my panic.

"Isaac?"

"There's plenty of time," I continued, until he interrupted me again.

"Isaac."

"It's – It's a 'D'," I answered quietly.

He stared at me for a moment before putting his knife and fork down.

"All right. It's a 'D'. I'm not angry. You know I'm gonna have to find a way to punish you though," he stated matter – of – factly. "You know, I have my responsibility as a parent."

I was terrified. His beast was yet to be revealed, but I knew, soon enough, it would, and it wouldn't be nice.

"So we'll start with something simple," he said, looking at the kitchen. "Tell you what, you do the dishes and you clean up the kitchen, okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded, trying not to make him any angrier.

"Good. Because I – I'd really like to see this place spotless." He chucked the mug he was just drinking from on the ground. Upon impact, it smashed, causing me to flinch.

"Know what I'm saying? You know? I mean this entire kitchen." He smashed the glass on the table and swept his plate onto the floor. I quickly jumped up from my chair and curled into a ball at the bottom of the wall. He picked up a glass vase, which should have been used for flowers, and grinned evilly.

"Absolutely spotless," he laughed, throwing the vase at me in the process. I quickly his my face, protecting most of it apart from one spot. A small stinging pain ran through my cheek and I knew it had dug in. I slowly looked up at him, only to see a smirking face. No regret, no remorse, just his usual smirk for when he was beating me. He looked at the glass in my cheek and his smirk seemed to widen.