Dangerous Temptations

(3) Fear And Loathing

Hey Guys!!

3 Chapters in less than a week, I'm in my winter break so I think I could use the extra time :)

But the chapters will be reduced to once a week when I get back to school which is starting next Monday, sorry! :(

I also wanted to thank everyone who took the time to read in these two days, I really appreciate it :) xx

Until then, I'm going to try as much as I can to deliver chapters while I'm at it.

Happy Reading :)

Chapter 3: Fear And Loathing

MIA:

"Dad?" I breathed, Is he sober? His voice doesn't seem shaky like when he's drunk. Dad turned on the lights looking surprisingly sober. He looked.. clean. He was wearing a sky blue shirt and khaki shorts. His beard was shaved and he looked sober, he still didn't look normal though. There was something different about him. He was angry, but not drunk angry, sober angry, that's even scarier.

"We need to talk" His voice was cold, like trickling ice running down my spleen. He was sitting on the couch wearing the stony, unemotional face I've ever seen from my dad. Well you see him twice a month if you're lucky, he must wear this face a lot.

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. It became a routine for me to know just what to say to avoid him when he's drunk, but no intoxicated management experience could make me figure out what am I supposed to say to run to my room, or outside, whatever works faster.

"I need to know why you're treating me like this." His answer came out as a statement more than a question, whatever it was it took me by surprise, is he really going with me down memory lane, is he fucking serious? I said the only thing I managed to get out of my mouth

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Why are you treating me like I don't exist? Why is my alcohol a problem to you?" Okay that guy's on crack..

"Why am I treating you like you don't exist? I'm not treating you dad, that's the truth, you don't exist in my life." I said, trying as hard as I could not to cry, this conversation is all wrong.

"You've always preferred your mom, even before my alcohol situation." he said, getting up from the couch, taking slow steps towards me. I may not show it but my sweaty palms and darting eyes are rock solid evidence that I didn't want to be here.

"This statement is not even remotely true! I loved you.  You were my hero, even before mom died, and when she did, guess where you were? OH you were drunk! You came to the funeral with a half empty Bourbon bottle, Dad!" I was now half yelling, and tears are threatening to form in my eyes, but at this point, I don't really care.

"I was hurt, Mia! You're mom was the love of my life. When I lost her, I went to the first thing I thought of! Alcohol was my solution to take away the pain I felt. Didn't you think of that before?" He snapped , Anger was starting to boil and I felt my head get hotter by the second.

"Oh Yeah?! You were hurt?! What about me? Ever thought about your daughter? How she must feel? How she lost her mother at 17 years old?" My tears were running down my face in a steady stream, and at this point I don't even know what I'm more angry about: the fact that I allowed my vulnerability to be crystal clear in front of him or the fact that someone could be so self righteous it doesn't even occur to them that they could be wrong. Horribly, tragically wrong.