Dear, Lovely

5:She's Like A Lost Princess

~~Arielle~~

"I'm home. . . " I whispered, peering around the empty, bright red living room. There was no reason for me to announce to them that I was home, I mean, they usually did not care.

I tightly gripped my bag as I walked towards the kitchen. Everything seemed perfectly normal, which was beginning to scare me. Usually my house was clamorous and people were always running around. However, the house was quiet, too quiet.

Dropping my bag on the kitchen floor, I tilted my head towards the fridge. A pair of eyes distorted my clear view of the room. "Arielle," my mom gently said, smiling as she sat on the opposite side of the small brown table.

I gave her a nod and my eyes drifted over to the other person occupying space at the table. Immediately I opened the fridge, avoiding eye contact with them.

"You're late. . ." my father sighed. I refused to turn around. My eyes desperately searched for food to consume, but there was nothing I liked in the fridge today. "I said you're late!" He scolded. I settled for a small juice box in the back of the fridge.

Sighing, I attempted to get the plastic off the straw. "Yeah, I'm kinda aware of that, Dad," I hissed back, knowing I was getting myself into more trouble by being rude.

"Do you want to explain why you're late? Or should I just act like I don't care?"

I bit my bottom lip, placing the straw in the hole.

This was the fourth time this week I was late. I had been taking the long way home ever since the incident. Even though it took me almost an hour to get here, it was worth not seeing any of those assholes.

"Hmm you should definitely go with the second option," I cooed, sipping on the cold apple juice.

"Fine, then," he snapped. I decided it was time to vacate, but of course, he was not going to let me leave. "I wasn't done talking to you, young lady!"

My eyes widened as he sprung up from the table dragged me back into kitchen, his fingers digging into my forearm. "John, there's no need for that," my mother defended and I tried to pull away.

"I got a lovely visit at work today, can you guess who it was?" he yelled, letting go of my arm. I touched the sore area and slowly massaged the bright red skin.

"Oh great you got a visit. Why the hell should I care?!" I said, raising my voice to match his tone.

"Because it was my damn goody two-shoes brother! That's why!" he yelled. Uncle Scott. . . Why the hell would he. . .

Oh. . . No.

"Do you know why he decided to stop by? Because I'm damn sure you told him something!"

"I didn't say anything to him! I swear!" I lied. If I told him I saw Uncle Scott earlier this week, and that I mentioned how much of a shit father he was, I would be back by that lamppost. Tonight.

"Oh really? Then why did he call me an ungrateful bastard, who abuses his daughter, and doesn't give a shit about his family, huh?!" he screamed, moving closer to me. "Youknow my whole work floor heard him, even my boss, Arielle. Do you even know what they think about me now? Hell, I don't even know if I'm going to have a job next week, because of you. How does that sound, Arielle? Huh?!" His angry, brown eyes glared at me, and could not look at them for long.

"I swear I didn't say any-"

"Oh stop lying to me Arielle for God's sake! You told him didn't you?!" He grabbed my arm again, pulling me closer to him. Fear beginning to rush through my bloodstream. I began to tremble as I felt his breath hit my cheek. "I said did you tell him!!?" He yelled in my ear. A few tears welled up in my eyes. I knew I had to say something even if it was not the truth.