{Highest Rankings: #1 in Bill Skarsgard & Pennywise}
[COMPLETED]
"He's a mystery, but with a mystery comes the unknown."
She thought he was an imaginary friend from her childhood. When he kidnaps her years later, she realizes she was dead wrong.
➢...
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I twisted the door handle, watching as the brightness from outside shined on the inside. It was dark, and my father wasn't in the living room. I slowly walked inside, shutting the door behind me as I made my way to the kitchen. With my luck, he was probably upstairs, sleeping in his bed for once.
I sighed, turning around to make my way upstairs. With one large gasp coming from my mouth, I jumped. My dad stood in front of me, a lazy grin plastered on his face.
"Well, I haven't seen you in weeks," He slurred, setting his beer bottle down on the table. His breath smelled like alcohol. "Could have sworn that you were my kid." He made his way behind me, opening the fridge as he started to look for something to eat.
I looked down to the floor. "You're drunk," I muttered. "Again."
"What was that?" He turned around quickly but clumsily, his eyes slit.
"You drank too much again," I told him, carefully choosing my words.
"You're right," He admitted, putting his elbows on the counter as he quietly muttered, "Why don't you go to your room. It's getting past your bedtime anyway."
I looked at the clock placed above the couch. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right for once. We had spent at least four hours at the hospital, and it was almost 8 o'clock.
I sighed quietly, turning around as I started walking towards the stairs. Just when I thought I was let off the hook, I heard my father's voice behind me.
"And uh," I turned around, watching him as he grabbed his beer bottle off of the table. With one motion, he dropped it with a loud crash. The glass fell to the floor and broke into pieces. "Clean that up, why don't you." He snickered, making his way towards the small hallway. I watched him as he made his way to his room, slamming the door after him.
I felt tears come to my eyes. I don't know why I was starting to cry. Maybe it was because I had noticed how much my father had changed throughout the years. He was always a jerk, but it got worse over time.
I slowly walked to the shattered glass, bending down as I started to gather the pieces in my hand. As I got the large edges of the glass, I heard a shuffle behind me.
"What happened?" Penny's voice rang through the kitchen.
I gasped, standing up quickly. I turned around, accidentally squeezing the chips in my hand. I hissed at the pain. Looking up, I saw Penny staring down at me with a frightened expression on his face.
"What the hell happened?" Penny asked me, moving forward to grab my hand. It was bleeding to the point where I ran down my arm.
"He just—" I paused, shaking my head as I tried not to stutter. "He dropped his beer bottle, and I wanted to pick it up."
Penny shook his head. "You know that's not what happened."
I looked down to the ground. I couldn't have him against my dad; more than he already was. "But it is." I felt my voice began to shake.
