Reputation

That's Not Like My Rebekah

Chapter 9

Ethan sent Rebekah straight home as soon as Joanne left.

Rebekah hadn't felt relief like that in a long time. It felt so incredible to leave that house without feeling so despondent or distanced from herself when walking away. She could finally breathe without the constant reminder of what she was doing; sleeping with the monster that crept into her life and drowned her in hate and disgust with herself.

But Rebekah couldn't help but question Kade's actions.

The look on his heart- shaped face would always and forever be with Rebekah. She had never witnessed that type of brokenness before. She knew that look, it was fear.

What was Kade Samuels so afraid of?

" It's alright, man," Ethan had said soothingly, placing his hand on his shoulder and rubbing at it to calm Kade. But Kade just turned away and didn't respond, leaving the room. That's when Ethan told Rebekah it would be best if she left.

Rebekah pulled the handle to her front door- to her surprise, it was open. She pulled her face before walking into the house. She was immediately greeted with emptiness; the large house so silent you could hear a pin drop.

" Father," This caused Rebekah more confusion as she slowly entered each room, searching for her father. He couldn't be found anywhere. He had to be home, why else would the door be unlocked?

Finally, she entered the kitchen, and found the man she was looking for. Although he appeared different whilst sat at that table. That type of different she'd notice at least once every three months. It was a sight she didn't want to see.

Her father. Richard Fleetwood, slumped against the built- in bar inside their kitchen. His back facing her as it hunched over. His arms were placed in front of him and she recognised that his blonde hair was rather messy on top of his head, which was very odd for a man of his stature.

" Father," Rebekah repeated quietly, messing with her fingers as she nervously stared over at him. He didn't turn to face her- he appeared as if he was bringing something to his lips. Rebekah turned to notice the brown glass in his hand, clearly containing gin. This was another sign her father had, had one of those days. So untypical.

When Rebekah felt she was being ignored, she turned to leave the room. " I'm going to go upstairs and- "

" Your school called," he interrupted, his voice slurred and slow. He still did not turn to look his daughter in the eyes.

Rebekah's heart dropped, and she found that her breath hitched in her throat. She knew the reason they'd be calling. Ditching school yesterday to avoid seeing her enemies, only to be hunted down by the evilest one. It was completely pointless. She could of gone school, and still avoided them like the Plague.

She finally found the courage to speak up. There was no getting out of this now. " They did?" She played dumb, her tone so raspy and barely recognisable as it shook with worry.

She listened intently as he swirled the ice in his alcohol- filled glass. You could cut the tension with with a knife as the only noise evident was the sharp sound of the glass and ice connecting, scraping of each other.

" That's not like my Rebekah. Where were you?" Richard finally swung on his chair, and Rebekah caught that rare sight of her father. His blue tie was crinkled and his shirt appeared as if it hadn't been ironed in weeks. His blood-shot, brown eyes bulged out their sockets- they were veiny and watering like a broken tap.

" That's not important," she bravely said. Her father raised his thick eyebrows at her as she closed her eyes to calm her raging thoughts. "You're in no state to discuss this."