Unexpected Roommates | Slashers x Reader

Chapter 15: Shots Fired

    You ended up standing by the window after a while, almost a whole 2 hours passing until your parents pulled up to the house- in a cab. You were at the door just as they were opening it, stumbling inside and bringing with them the reeking scent of alcohol. Immediately you're more scared than you'd like to admit, because when your father was drunk he was hostile and dangerous. You were a grown woman, though, and this was your house.

    "Dear." your mother hissed as she slipped off her shoes.

    "Mother." you say back calmly, picking their bags off the ground.

    "What's all this?" your father asks, a knowing glint in his eyes. He already knows what you're going to try, and he's confident he can convince you otherwise before he even proposes the idea. You shrink under his gaze but push forwards anyways.

    "You guys have to leave." you say flatly, holding out the bags.

    "What?" your mother says this time, hands on her hips.

    "I'm kicking you out. It hasn't even been a day and you've already crossed the line. You guys can't stay here." your father rolls his eyes, pushing past you towards the kitchen and prying open the fridge.

    "Is there anything here to eat that isn't junk?" he scolds, slamming the fridge and turning to you. "Make me lunch like a good little hostess." You stood there for a minute, stunned, bags still in your hands. You drop them to the floor.

    "Get out of my house." you say, this time much more firm and demanding. Now your mom saunters in, failing to stand upright as she collapses onto the island chairs. "I'm kicking you out, are you guys deaf?"

    "I've seen you get like this before!" your mom slurs, "You don't mean it, you love us!"

    "Get to dinner, (Y/N). You know I don't like when you talk back." he stands with his arms crossed in the middle of the room, a frown on his face. You stand your ground, shaking your head and crossing your arms as well.

    "No, you assholes need to get out of my house!" your voice is rising steadily, and you take a deep breath to try and control it.

    "Assholes?" your father scoffs, his frown turning into an amused smile before going straight back toa  frown again. "Get. To. Dinner." this time he waits in silence for you to move, and when you don't, his eyes go dark. "(Y/N). Last chance."

    "Or what?" you challenge. The regret you feel after those words is almost overwhelming. Your father crosses the kitchen in seconds, hand gripping the front of your shirt.

    "I don't like this new attitude!" he holds you nose to nose and your stomach plummets. Your eyes gloss over no matter how much you don't want them to, and your bottom lip quivers until you bite it in order to hold it still. "I'm going to count to 3, and if you aren't making us some fucking food by then you're going to regret it!" your dad hisses lowly, his alcohol-scented breath washing over your face and scaring you even more. Not knowing what else to do, only knowing you need him to let you go, you nod. "1." he begins, but you already know better than to let him get to 3. "Good. You learn your place, asshole." he returns your curse, and you let your head sink and your shoulders droop. Why had you even tried?

    You don't care what you're making, you just randomly grab chicken, broccoli and rice from wherever they were held and get to work preparing them as quickly as possible. Your mother and father sit at the island the entire time, not saying a word to you, but sharing many with one another. Over the sizzling of the chicken you heard little, but the bits and pieces you caught were about how much of a disappointment you turned out to be. Once the food was done you threw it randomly onto plates and slammed them down in front of your parents.