I Amsterdam (Completed)

Chapter 10.1 - Brandon

"We know what we are, but know not what we may be."           - William Shakespeare

"So you think you can just sneak off while we're sleeping, and drive off with a girl to the countryside for the entire day?! Without telling us?!" my mother yelled.

I stood motionless, saying nothing because I knew the questions were all meant to be rhetorical.

"You didn't even bring your phone!" my father added, incredulous.

"Yeah, but you said I could have the next few days to finish showing Emma around Amsterdam," I retorted, finally able to muster up some courage.

"Around Amsterdam. Be reasonable, Brandon. You know we meant just around the city. We definitely didn't mean for you to go all the way to the countryside."

"Well, I guess you weren't specific enough. Grandma and Grandpa's house is still within Amsterdam's borderlines, so I thought it was fine."

"And that girl," my mother said, wagging her finger. "I still don't like her."

"You never did. You never liked anyone that's not your family."

"That's because family is trust. You don't have anyone if it's not your family. And that girl isn't family. I don't even feel like she has a family, to be honest."

"Well that's where you're wrong. She does. With parents just like you. But unlike me, she doesn't give a damn about them," I spat.

"Language!" my father scolded. "And what's that supposed to even mean?!"

I opened my mouth to retort, but decided to hold it back. "Nothing," I scoffed.

My mother put her hands on her hips to make a point. "I feel like she's just crawled her way into our family and is tearing us apart. She's manipulating you."

"How?" I challenged.

"Well, for starters, you never run away like this!" my mother yelled.

"I didn't run away. I just needed some time away. There's a difference."

"And you don't talk back like this," my father added.

"Well, maybe it's time I did. Maybe it's time I tell you what I think."

"You're acting like when you were in your sophomore year," my mother accused.

"No, I'm not."

My father scoffed, and crossed his arms. "We don't want you to see Emma anymore, Brandon."

I forced a chuckle. "She lives next door, Father, and may go to my school."

"Then we'll transfer you like we did last time!" My father's fists collided with the dining table with his fists, using the very definition of controlled anger.

I rolled my eyes angrily. "Why do you have to be so protective?" I yelled. "Nothing bad happened! And I'm happy when I'm with her! But you only want to take her away from me!"

"It's better for you," my mother explained. "We have no idea who that girl is or where she came from."

"Well I do," I countered.

"We don't trust her, Brandon, and neither should you."

I sighed heavily. "I just don't care," Emma had said. "My parents are not me so why should I care?"

So without a word, I left the living room and went upstairs to my bedroom.

"Brandon!" my father yelled after me. "Come back here!"

I slammed the door behind me and locked it.

I don't care what they say. I love Emma, and nothing can keep me from her.

I'm done being an obedient little bitch.