Still My Idiots // One Direction [Book 2: Idiot Series]

Chapter One - You Never Called

Louis is 24. Zayn and Liam are 23. Harry and Niall are 22. 

Mica.

"Now, just sit in there until I give your dad a call," the cop said, sitting me comfortably in a jail cell. I sighed as I sat down in the familiar cell to wait for my dad to send a worker of his with some money. The cop gave me a dirty look before walking away.

I sighed again, but louder, knowing I was in deep shit with my dad now. Getting caught with not only beer, but drugs and a other substance as well wasn't going to go down well with the boss. I crossed my legs and quietly groaned, knowing he'd be seriously pissed this time. And I was definitely fucked. 

About twenty minutes later, the same cop came back. But this time, he wasn't with one of my dad's workers, but my dad.

"Hey, daddy!" I said to him, trying to act sweet as I smiled and batted my eyes. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head with an angry expression, turning to walk away without even waiting for me.

I sighed as I ran after him. He must've already payed to get me out, because he walked right past the front desk and out the door.

I followed him out to the car. As he got into the drivers seat, I got in the passengers seat. "Would ya listen to me for a single second?!" I shouted.

"You know, I'm really pissed off with you right now!" he said, loudly, but not shouting.

"Dad, I wasn't drinking that stuff, or smoking anything!" I told him angrily, growling and glaring right at the man that never listened to me.

"How do I know that for sure? What happened to you, Mica? You were so good! You were my little boxer, now you're my little monster. What did you do to yourself?" he asked me, sadness in his voice. I stared at him, but he kept his eyes on the road.

"Maybe I needed a dad, and he wasn't there," I growled and turned back in my seat so I was facing forward. I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed. I heard my dad sigh.

"I'm leaving again tomorrow," he told me after a long, awkward silence, with another sigh.

"Of course you are," I mumbled, looking out the window and tuning him out. I ignored whatever he was saying until I heard that one sentence.

"I got you a babysitter," he said. I turned to him, my mouth dropping.

"What?!" I shouted. He flinched at the sound of my raised voice.

"Would you please shut up!" he growled at me. "Yeah, I got you a babysitter. I am not leaving you home alone again just so you can get yourself pregnant, get high, and drink your pain away."

"Dad, you can't do that!" I said to him. "It's not fair."

"Life isn't fair, Mica," he said to me.

"Bu-"

"No buts," he said, cutting me off. I groaned loudly and sat back in my seat.

Home.

I got out of the car and slammed the door shut before angrily walking up to my front door. I stood there, waiting for my dad to come with the keys. And once he opened the door, I walked in and ran up the stairs to my room.

I slammed my bedroom door shut and fell back onto my bed, looking around my room. Last summer, my dad had taken down all my posters and pictures from my wall and stored them away somewhere so he could paint my room. I never found my stuff, mostly because part of me didn't want to. When everything happened, a strong part of me wanted to forget everything that had happened in the past; so that's what I did.