Sleep With One Eye Open

Chapter Eighteen- Don't Go

We arrived home shortly after the encounter, shocking my father tremendously. Especially since we brought home a random girl off of the streets.

“What are you two doing home so early?” My father pauses, as Marian is the last one to sit down on the couch beside me. His eyes avert to the girl, the expression on his face blank, but frustrated. “Especially with . . . her.” Dad continues, referring to Marian, who casually layed back with her arm propped on the armrest.

“Well,” I started, almost choking on my words. I didn’t think Dad would be upset about this. “Oli and I were on our way to see a movie from eating breakfast, and I saw Marian,” –nodding my head to my left- “She looked lonely and I just felt some kind of weird connection. So, I wanted to bring her here for a little while.”

“And how long is a while, Jane? Why couldn’t you call and ask first, before bringing her home? You know I can’t just throw her back on the streets now! And besides, for all you know, she could be some serial killer-“ His voice bellowed off of the walls.

“That’s what I said,” Oliver interrupted.

My father and I both glared at him, but for different reasons.

“Not helping, Oli. Are you on my side or his side?” I grumbled, slightly annoyed at my boyfriend.

Oliver laughs, but none of us laugh with him. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he says, “I’m on your side, babe,” Oli grabs my hand that was placed on my thigh and squeezes it tightly. We notice my dad still giving him a glare. “But no offense to you, Mr. Malia. I just agree with Jane.”

“Why?” He crosses his arms, standing over us in an intimidating way.

“For one, you haven’t heard Marian’s side of the story yet. She actually seems like a nice girl, who needed a little help. But it was Jane’s idea.” Oliver answers.

“Jane?” My father looks to me now.

I sigh irritably, my hands shaking out of anxiety. Oliver notices and grabs my other hand while leaning on me, trying to keep me under control. “Like I said, I felt a connection and she needed help. I’m not the kind of person to just be cold-hearted like that.”

“Thank you, by the way,” Marian leans over and whispers. The whispering failed, for my father heard.

His mouth opened to say something in response to my comment, but I interrupted him out of annoyance. “Dad, I didn’t come home to argue about this.” I glanced over at Oliver, hoping he realized where I was going with this conversation.

“Then why did you come home?” Those words stung.

I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood. I could taste the saltiness on my tongue. When I was ready to just let loose and comment, Oliver interrupted, “No offense, Mr. Malia, but you don’t have to be a jerk about this. That last thing you said was just rude.” Oliver let go of my hand nearest to Marian, and put his arm over my shoulders, hugging me closer to him.

I could sense my father coming up with a creative comeback, but I opened my mouth before he could start something with Oliver. “Dad, did you hear about a kidnapping in America?”

My dad froze. I could see his muscles relax from all the tension, but yet he still stayed alert. “No, I did not . . .” His eyes moved between both Oliver and I. “Where are you going with this?”

“Well . . . A few days before you called with the news . . . During the tour in Texas, me, Oliver, and the lead singers of Asking Alexandria and Black Veil Brides were kidnapped by some old creep for ransom money.” Without realizing it, I said that rather fast, just to get it over with.