Garrix & Me (Martin Garrix Fanfiction)

Chapter 42

Martin's POV

So her father left. Without giving her mother a reason. It doesn't make sense to me because her father is one of those uptight, morally correct bastards who isn't the type to just get angry and leave.

When I was younger, my own fuck up of a father used to leave at random times. And not because of his career, but because he couldn't control his anger. He had a temper that led to him doing stupid things. When I was 7, he hit my mother. That was the first time he'd left us and he didn't come back for a whole week. He showed up on a Sunday evening and I got sent to bed but I remember listening to their shouting voices from my room. It used to make me angry too, that my parents couldn't get along like other parents.

My mother took him back, obviously. They had a reputation to uphold. He didn't do it again but he'd get drunk and it almost happened too many times but that's why he would leave. Maybe it's good that he did but it shouldn't have had to happen in the first place.

He didn't bother having a relationship with me. He never acknowledged me or came to my school athletics or did anything fatherly. The only times he'd talk to me was when I fucked up or to criticize something I did. I used to care but eventually I stopped giving a shit. And he hated it. He hated not being listened to and he still does. He likes being in control and he just fucking goes around treating people like shit as if he's right and everyone else is wrong.

When I discovered how to produce my own music and make tracks and when I realized it was something that made me happy, I took it as my only chance to get the hell away from that house. It wasn't home. It never will be my home.

As much as I hate it at this shithole, Zoe has a home. This shithole is something she can call home. A real home with parents that are there all the time. Who don't just ship her off to another country when they're disappointed or disappear without leaving a note, or let her be raised by her grandmother and never bother to see her. They give a shit.

I look over to Zoe and her cheeks are red and she's crying. I can tell because she knows I'm staring and shakes her head so that her hair falls to cover her face. I hate it when she does that.

"We'll find him," I say, turning down the street, "This shithole of a town isn't that big anyway," I mean it as a joke, but she turns to me with a glare. Even when she's upset, she still finds it in her to get angry with me over the simplest shit.

"I don't even know where he could have gone," she says, turning away again.

"A bar?"

"He isn't you," she scoffs.

I grind my teeth to prevent myself from saying something stupid in response to her obvious insult.

"Well then, where else does he enjoy going?" I retort, gripping the steering wheel.

"He could be at the country club, near the golf course," Zoe says slowly, as if thinking it through.

"Tell me how to get there."

In ten minutes, we pull up outside a large, brightly lit sign - HOLDEN'S COUNTRY CLUB & GOLF ESTATE.

The gates to the estate swing open slowly and I drive in, parking near where the entrance seems to be.

"There!" Zoe says suddenly, her hand pressed up against the window, "That's his car!"

Before I can switch off the ignition, Zoe fumbles with the door and gets out quickly, slamming it behind her in a matter of seconds. I cuss under my breath and hastily jump out, jogging after her across the gravel parking lot.

She goes through the open door of the main building and looks left and then right, before turning around. She's panicking and breathing heavily and fuck, I want to strangle her father. When I stop beside her, I glance around. The place is overly fancy, with massive glass chandeliers hanging in a dining room, with a man in a suit playing Beethoven's Für Elise on a grand piano.