call me demi // miss lovato

four;

Olivia's POV

When Miss Lovato pulls up into my driveway I notice a yellow taxi parked opposite our house.

"No ones home?" She questions, not breaking me out of my gaze on the taxi.

If it's what I think it is, he's done this before. My dad. My dad has done this before.

My heart drops to my stomach. Hell, even lower than my stomach, and I quickly gather my things out of Miss Lovato's car.

"I'm so sorry for all of this," my facial expressions probably scream vulnerability right now but I can't help it, "I'll see you tomorrow." I add right before closing the door behind me.

Before she has a chance to reply I speed walk to my front door, fiddling with my keys anxiously in attempts to find the right one.

When I step inside I'm met with the familiar, relationship ruining, sight.

My dad has brought all his important belongings downstairs and is currently packing them into a large suitcase.

"Dad?" I hesitantly make him aware of my presence.

Instead of looking up he continues to shove belonging after belonging in his bag, ignoring that I'm here.

"Please don't tell me you're doing what I think you are." I start to walk towards him, fighting back the tears that are brimming in my eyes.

Zipping up his suitcase, he stands back up and grabs the handle, making his way to the door.

"Are you gonna answer me?" I ask, this time with more confidence in my voice than previously.

He stops in front of the door and turns around to face me, a blank look on his face. "I can't keep doing this anymore."

"That's not fair." My jaw clenches at the fact he's been home for less that a day and has already given up on our family. "You can't keep leaving whenever you want to."

My breath is getting heavier by the second and I result in biting the inside of my cheek to keep me from breaking down right in front of him.

"Coming from the girl who's the root cause of most of the fights in the family. Hell, why do you think your mom isn't here huh?" My dad is now up in my face, yelling at me at the top of his voice.

Biting my cheek is doing nothing for me now, I can't hold this back. Not gonna lie, out of all the fucked up things he used to say to me when I was little, that was harsh.

"You don't mean that dad." My voice is barely a whisper but he still manages to hear me.

"Oh I do." He spits his words at me before grabbing his bag. "Don't stress about the fact that I keep leaving," he laughs bitterly, "This will surely be the last time I do. I'm not coming back."

With that, he walks out the door, taking our already fragile relationship with him.

What the fuck just happened.

In a short moment I go from being slightly composed to sobbing on the living room ground.

I've never cared too much for my dad and I's relationship but the shit he just said is scarring.

The worst part about this is that he wasn't drunk. I know that may not make too much sense but normally, if he were to say hurtful things, he wasn't sober. He never used to say things like that on purpose.

I think I've been staring silently at the door for a few minutes now before I hear my phone ring in my pocket.

Hoping its my mom, I quickly reach for it and read the screen.