"Evs, you want me to walk you home?" Carter asked, draping his toned arm across my shoulders.
I shook my head, Carter was my best friend, which meant he knew what went on at home, but that didn't mean I liked subjecting him to it.
"You sure?" he asked again his blue eyes searching my face.
I nodded and clocked out. I glanced at him sideways noting the way he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. I ignored this and grabbed my coat just as he let out an exasperated sigh.
"Fine!" I snapped.
"What?" he asked innocently.
"Walk me home," I ordered and stomped out of the store, locking it after Carter.
We walked in silence for a bit, the cool autumn air making my hair dance. I rolled my eyes, knowing Carter wanted to tell me something, and waited patiently for him to tell me. As my house appeared I figured he either wasn't ready to tell me or he didn't have anything to say, but as I walked toward my door he stopped making me stop too.
I sighed and made a show of turning to him and looking up, "What?"
"Um, I want to ask you something," he mumbled looking down at his shoes.
"Okay?" I was confused now; I mean why was he telling me he wanted to ask me something? Why didn't he just ask?
He looked at me, a strange expression on his face. He had been acting really weird lately, I couldn't help but notice. He would look at me with this same look, like he was trying to tell me something but we were speaking completely different languages. I tilted my head, a question on my face. Abruptly, he stepped back, running his hands through his hair roughly. He mumbled something to himself as I stood there, completely lost.
"Um, look, I gotta go, but maybe you can meet me downtown tonight at sevenish at the usual place?" I said to break the awkwardness that had wedged itself in the silence. He seemed to brighten at that and quickly nodded before hugging me tightly and walking away. I shook my head and rolled my eyes, he was so weird sometimes.
I stopped at my front door and winced as I heard a glass shatter. Yes, he was awake. I took a deep breath and walked inside. The house was a mess, Jack Daniel bottles littered the floor and puke stains added to the chaos. It smelled awful, and I had only been gone a few hours.
"Dad?" I called out hesitantly, side-stepping a particularly nasty looking stain. I made my way to the kitchen.
"I'm home," I called again and automatically moved to the side as a bottle flew at my head shattering against the wall.
I studied my dad carefully, he looked awful. His black hair was greasy and matted to his forehead and his eyes were bloodshot. A vein bulged in his forehead as he caught sight of me. My eyes widened as I looked for my escape, I moved for the stairs but ran into my father's hand instead.
The slap wasn't a surprise, but it still hurt. My breathing sped as I looked up at my father. I tried to feel angry, but really I felt nothing when I looked at him. Not love, not hatred, not pity. Just nothing. I continued studying him, his eyes were the same silver-grey as mine, but the color was marred by the red of his veins. I tried to see him as he was in the pictures in the photo album under my bed. My dad, believe it or not, had not always been like this. I didn't remember a time when he wasn't, but the very sober him in the pictures told me so. He used to be handsome, and I guess in a way he still was if you got past the stench of alcohol and body odor and the greasy tank he had on.
But now, I can't see how he ever could've been any different as he grips my arm, his dirt crusted nails digging into my skin. I didn't know exactly why he was angry, but I had a feeling that my ignorance would soon be relieved. He dragged me toward the table and pointed to a small envelope.
"What the fuck is that?" he bellowed in my ear.
An envelope, I thought.
"I don't know," I whispered.
"Read it you stupid bitch!" he shoved me into the table.
I whimpered in pain and looked down at the envelope seeing the college's name.
"Dartmouth," I whispered reverently caressing the package as if it were a child.
Forgetting my father, I snatched up the envelope and tore into it eagerly. I remembered myself and stifled my scream of joy as I read the acceptance letter.
"There is no question that when we mail our final decisions at the end of March, you will be offered admission to the College. I see no reason to delay letting you know about the promising status of your application, and I hope this early indication will 'ease your mind' a bit." I murmured silently, my excitement swelling. Not only because I was going to Dartmouth, but also because I would never have to step foot in this house again in a few months.
"You're not going," he said firmly sounding completely sober for a second.
And for the first time in years, I got angry. I was so angry I was seeing red. I spun around to face him.
"Yes I am," I said in a lethal tone.
I knew I was treading on dangerous soil, but for once, I didn't care. I was leaving and that was that, maybe Carter would let me stay with him until the school year ended. My father was still reeling from the fact I had actually talked back to him, and I took that moment to push past him and stomp up to my room. I knew I didn't have long so I stuffed all of my clothes -I didn't have many- into a duffle bag and took a quick shower.
It was one week until my eighteenth birthday, if I could avoid him until then I would be fine. Quietly I opened my window and dropped my bag to the ground, wincing as it thumped. I shut the window and made my way downstairs, my eyes catching the flicker of movement to my right. I ducked down, the fist meant for me impacted with the wall. I ran out, going to the side of the house for my bag before sprinting into the night, my fathers screams following me, though I knew he wouldn't follow me, he would wait for when I came home. But I'm not coming home, I thought as a laugh erupted from my lungs.
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Like it? Loathe it? Yeah, it's going a bit slow, but I'm building up to when we meet our leading man. (: I'd love to hear what ya'll think so please don't hesitate to tell me.
