Forever Falling

When Prisons Have Doors: Chapter 12

Summer's steps grew heavier as she approached the house that had become a prison. The once welcoming warmth of the setting sun now cast a foreboding shadow over the cracked concrete of the driveway. Her heart thudded in her chest with each step closer to the door, her dread thickening the surrounding air.

And there he was, the bane of her existence, her adopted dad, lounging in the doorway like a malevolent specter, a bottle of vodka cradled in his grimy hand. The glass glistened with the liquid, taunting her with the promise of oblivion she could never have. His eyes, bloodshot and hollow, bore into hers, a twisted smile curling his lips. "Nice of the little whore to show up today," he slurred, the words sticking to the air like a foul stench.

Summer's cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and humiliation, but she held her tongue. Experience had taught her silence was the safest response to his venom. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice shaking slightly. "It was so late last night, so I stayed with a friend."

David's eyes narrowed, the smirk on his face deepening. "I really don't care," he drawled, his voice thick with alcohol. "Is there any way I can get you out of the house tonight?"

Summer felt a spark of hope. Anything to escape his clutches, even for a few hours. "Yes, sir," she replied meekly, her voice wavering. "I'm going to the end of the year school dance."

The sneer on David's face twisted into something akin to satisfaction. "Then you best get ready, bitch," he sneered, the words dripping with spite. "Make sure you dress extra slutty for... that guy you like."

Summer felt a flicker of rage, but she swallowed it down. She knew better than to argue. She spun on her heel and hurried up the stairs to her room, the following slap on her ass still stinging. The door slammed shut behind her; the vibration echoing through the emptiness of the house.

Her room was a mess of discarded clothes and half-hearted attempts at homework, a stark contrast to the meticulously organized chaos that was her mind. She rummaged through her closet, searching for the perfect outfit for the dance. Something that would make her look good, but also something that wouldn't fuel David's twisted fantasies.

Summer chose a short black dress, one that hugged her curves but didn't reveal too much. She paired it with fishnet stockings and combat boots, a rebellious touch that made her feel stronger, more like herself. She applied her makeup with shaky hands, her eyes smoldering with defiance and fear. A crimson shade of lipstick painted her lips, the color a silent declaration of war.

As she descended the stairs, the sound of her boots on the wooden floor echoed through the desolate hallway. David was slumped on the couch, his eyes glued to the TV, the bottle of vodka now empty on the floor beside him. He barely glanced up, his gaze lingering on her legs, before looking away with a disgusted grunt. "You're going out like that?"

Summer's jaw clenched, but she forced a sweet smile. "Yes, sir."

His smirk grew wider. "Dress up a little sluttier for him, then. Maybe he'll finally realize how much of a whore you are."

Summer's eyes flashed with anger, but she kept her voice steady. "Yes, sir." She walked into the kitchen, the smell of stale cigarettes and burnt dinner clinging to the walls like a malignant fog. She grabbed her previously packed bag and keys, her hand shaking as she turned to leave.

"Don't bother coming home early," David called after her, his voice thick with malice. "You know what happens when you wake me up."

Summer's eyes filled with the tears she refused to shed as she stepped out into the crisp autumn evening. The air was cool, a welcome relief from the oppressive atmosphere of the house. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the scent of burning leaves and distant candy apples. The sound of children's laughter from the nearby street pierced the silence like a knife to the heart. How she wished she could join them, free of the horrors that lurked within her own walls.