Forbidden {L.S.}

Forty

I tried going back to stay with my parents.

It was the worst idea I ever thought of.

Louis wasn't wanting me to either. I thought things would have calmed down. My mom was freaking out even though I kept telling her I was fine and I was with my friends. 

Just to calm her down, I went back to my house after school about two weeks after the whole incident. Louis made me promise that if anything even close to what happened last time happened this time, I'd call him. I promised. I didn't want to be there if the same thing was going to happen. 

“I'm back!” I called when I opened the door. I closed it and didn't get a response right away. I walked into the living room and my dad was sitting on the couch. He slowly looked up from the television to look at me.

“So you decided to come back,” he said dryly. “I shouldn't even let you come back. Ungrateful little shit.”

“You were hurting me. Was I supposed to stay?” It was the truth, but just from the look he got in his eyes, I regretted saying anything.

“I never gave you permission to leave, now did I?” He stood up then. I stepped back, trying to keep as much space as possible between us. “I don't care if you're eighteen. I don't care that you think you can do whatever you want. You're my son, you listen to me.” He moved closer slowly and I was running out of room.

“Do you get that I don't feel safe here! I'm a legal adult! I do not have to be here!” Why would I even want to be here? To hear them fight all the time? I didn’t need that kind of stress, but that was probably the farthest thing from my dad’s mind.

He walked over to me, pressing my back against a wall. “Then why did you come back? If you can be mister independent-” he grabbed my hair although I tried to duck away from it, “why did you come back?”

“Because my mom was fucking worried about me, unlike my stepdad.” He hated being called my stepfather. He was, but he had been around since I was young and honestly did fill the father figure gap. I knew it would hurt him. I wanted to hurt him. I was hoping that he would realize how fucked up this all was, the situation he literally had me in.

He used my hair to slam my head into the wall. I groaned and clamped my teeth together. “I am your fucking dad, you know that. I won't tolerate your behavior, are we understood?”

“Since when did you get fucking violent?” I detangled his fingers from my hair and shoved him backwards, using the small amount of time to get out of the corner I had put myself into and backed into the living room. 

He followed me closely, a nasty scowl on his face. “When did you become a mouthy brat?” 

I didn't like this, but I didn't know how to get out of the situation. He had to have been the only one here, so I couldn't hide. I had a feeling no matter what I tried was going to end up badly and I didn't know what would be worse to do in a situation like this one. So I kept arguing with him.

“When I stopped getting sleep because of you two yelling for no reason. When you guys cared more about being right than where the hell I was. When I wasn't a priority and you didn't care what I was doing.”  I stopped walking and he started closing the space between us quickly. “But you know, I'm just ungrateful.”

The last thing I remember was almost tripping over the coffee table, looking away from him as he finished closing the space between us.