Playing The Player

:Chapter Thirty-Five:

Their faces were filled with shock, disgust, relief, shock, anger, annoyance and some more shock.

"Mum," I said breathlessly, excitement lacing my words, "You're home. I had no idea. Did you get the report cards I sent you? I wasn't sure where you were so I sent them to your assistant, did she get them to you? Did you see my - "

"Control yourself, Hayleigh," My mother snapped, "Yes, I saw them. They were very impressive. Are you happy now?"

My grin faltered at her harsh words, and if it weren't for the arm that was wrapped around my waist, then I probably would've collapsed from all the tension in the room. I turned, remembering Blake. "Mum, Dad, this is Blake, my - " I started to say.

"We see him," My father said coldly, "Is this what you've been doing while your mother and I have been away? Inviting hormonal boys over to use you for one easy night of pleasure? Despite everything we have said in the past, I never thought you'd go as low as this. If I had any idea that my daughter was turning into a filthy slu-"

I was speechless- for a second, at least. "He's my boyfriend," I said hotly, lacing my hand with his.

"And you're too young to have one," My father replied, even more coldly than he was before.

By this point, to put it lightly, I was pretty pissed. Not only did they come and go in and out this house at their free will, leaving Nina and I by myself constantly, the rare times they do walk in, all they do is criticize the way I act, everything I do, the people I hung out with. I didn't see it before, but... they were the people who had moulded me into the person I was today. The up-tight, stiff shadow of a girl. And though I had started changing recently, I hated that they had done this to me, and still expected me to treat them with respect.

"Fuck you," I hissed angrily.

"Hayleigh Grace!" My father shouted, while my mother uttered some little shriek-scream thing. "How dare you use that language in this house?"

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," I taunted, my adrenaline running high. I could feel my blood pumping through my body, and I realised that I was standing up for myself, the first time I had done so in seventeen years. For seventeen years, I had kept my thoughts to myself, thinking that if I shoved it under the carpet then it would go away. But it didn't. It just got worse and worse. "You have no right to tell me how I should act and what I should say. You lost that privilege when you and her," I jerked my head at my mother, "Walked out that door when Nina and I were seven years old and left us alone for a whole week by ourselves."

"We left money on the counter," My mother yelled angrily, throwing her expensive orange Hermes bag onto the floor as the professional, cool, calm and collected façade she always kept on dropped.

"You think money is going to solve anything?" I asked her brutally, venom injected in every single word, "Think again. You know more about your clients than you do about your daughters, and you know what, once upon I cared. But right now, I don't give a flying fuck about what you think!"

I turned to my father, my voice shaking with anger. "You think you have a right to lecture me about who I date? You think you have a right to call your daughter a slut? You want to know what a real slut is? Maybe you should look at the girls you secretly fuck when your obedient wife isn't around," I turned to my mother, and looked at her with unemotional eyes. "That's right, your husband has been having several affairs behind your back. That's right, he's been unfaithful. He's a cheating bastard. And you were stupid enough to - "

Slap.

My hand automatically flew to my cheek, where it now stung like crazy. Next to my cool hand, it was incredibly warm, and I cringed at the red hand mark that was sure to be on there. Tears demanded to make an appearance, but I forced them back; I wouldn't give my parents the satisfaction of letting them see me cry.

Blake stepped forward. "You touch her again," He said, his voice low but promising a dark threat, "And you will regret it." Giving them one last glare, he tugged me by my elbow out the front door.

It was weird that I had come in this house feeling on top of the world and coming out feeling like a pile of shit. But as Blake guided me to his house, as I couldn't see with the tears streaming out my eyes, I realised that I didn't mind feeling like shit. I didn't mind crying. Why?

Because Blake was here to comfort me.

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Hey you, yes you with the face, you're fucking AMAZING. :)