The Boy Next door (j.b)

Chapter 8 ~ Fired

*EDITED*

(check out my new stories, "Beneath the surface" and "Sugarcoats", tell me which one I should continue writing!)

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~ Chapter 8 ~

Justin parked his car in front of his garage. He turner the engine off, before turning to me. "This is us, huh," he smiled slightly. I nodded in response, and as if she was waiting for us, Pattie stepped out on the driveway, and waved at us with a smile.

Maybe it was time to actually get out of the car. I opened the door to my right, and stepped out of his car.

"Thanks for the ride!" I smiled at him, before waving goodbye to both him and Pattie. He smiled back, and Pattie never lost that big smile of hers before going back inside with her son following shortly after.

I turned around and crossed the street to my house. I stopped midway when I noticed the red truck in the driveway, it usually wasn't here by the time I got home on Fridays. He was at work from noon till nine or eight into the night.

Something is wrong.

I got inside, as quiet I could be. But of course, quiet for me was way too loud.

"Get your ass in the livingroom, Ariana!" I heard a hint of anger in his voice, and I already knew I would end up with a black eye or a bruise.

I dropped my bag by the stairs, which were the first thing you saw once you entered the house. Secondly there was a hallway, and I slowly walked down the hallway and entered the livingroom. I could see beers and wine-bottles everywhere.

"This is all your fault," he mumbled, throwing his head back and taking another big gulp of his beer. "This is all you fault," he said again, and stepped closer to me. "This is all your fucking fault, Ariana," he kept saying it over and over again.

I couldn't move. I was frozen in my tracks, as I saw him take drunken steps towards me. I didn't understand, what was my fault? What had I done?

"I, as in your father, won't get paychecks anymore, you know why?" he asked, pushing me a little. My back hit the wall behind me hard. "I got fired today," he continued, as if he was still thinking about it all. But I could clearly see anger in his eyes, but most of all, loneliness.

"They told me I'm too agressive," he said, putting one hand on each side og my head so I couldn't escape. "The only thing I did was push a woman a little, because she was annoying the crap out of me." He was smirking, and his head came closer and closer to mine. I could smell the alcohol much better now, and the smell was somewhat blended with the smell of cigarettes. "You know what she said? After I pushed her?" He slurred, his eyes drooping. "She said, "is this how you treat your family at home?", yup. That is definitely what she said," the anger was back in his voice, and he was no longer slurring.

"You told them," he said, raising his voice. I didn't dare to say anything. I hadn't told anyone. Not one soul. "This is all your fucking fault, if I could disown you, I would," he spat.

"If I told them, you would be in jail right now," I mumbled, not dating to look him in the eyes. My body was shaking, but I tried my best to keep it still. My eyes never met his, and I kept pushing myself back into the wall, hoping and praying it would swallow me whole.

He leaned his head closer to mine, making me press my back even harder against the wall.

"You're such a bitch," he said, giving me a look of disgust. "Your mom should be alive, not you," he shamefully shook his head, as if I was the one who should be ashamed of my existence.

"Well, it's not my fault that she's dead, is it?" I blurted angrily, finally having the guts to looks up.

You really shouldn't have said that, Ariana.

He reacted as bad as I thought. He wasn't slow punching me in the face. Pain spread all over my cheekbone and lips. I winced, and gritted my teeth together, as the pain kept spreading.

He stepped a foot away from me before kneeing me hard in the stomach, making me land on my knees. He kicked me again in the stomach, now making me fall on the floor. Then kicking me again on my chest. I could feel the blood-taste in my mouth. My nose was dripping with blood, I could see it in front of me. I ignored it, considering it wasn't my biggest problem.

"You should learn to shut the hell up, don't you think?" He said, kneeling beside my head.

I didn't answer. But he just smiled. He knew I was scared of him, no kid should be scared of their own parents. "Clean up this mess," he said before getting up on his feet again, a smirk plastered safely on his face. He grabbed the beer bottle, and walked out of the house like nothing had happened.

I just lay there for a while, the pain in my stomach unbearable. My nose was still bleeding, and a bruise was probably going to start forming soon on my right cheek.

And then I remembered.

They were coming over.

Fuck, they couldn't see me like this. After a while, I slowly got to my feet, pain still shooting through my body with each movement.

This was going to be an interesting night.

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