Sweet Dreaming | ✔

eleven

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PLEASE READ AUTHORS NOTE AT THE END, thank u xx

MYLA VELLA

"Sit down," Caleb sighs as he points towards the kitchen chair in front of me.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I yank out the back of the chair and plonk myself down on the seat. "Before you start shouting, at least hear me out," I whine as Evan looks between us hesitantly.

"Zara explained what happened," Caleb says as he sits down in front of me, prompting Evan to sit beside him.

"Great," I mumble as I sit back in the chair and fold my arms over my chest angrily.

"In any other circumstance I would congratulate you but punching Aria, that's low Myla. That is really low." I can tell that Caleb is trying to understand but deep down I know he wanted to shout at me.

"She was saying shit," I grumble as I glance out of the kitchen window.

"What did she say?" Evan asks softly from across the table.

"She told me that I had deformed arms, that they were retarded." My voice grumbles out, hating that I had to repeat these words.

"Oh my love," Evan frowns at me and attempts to reach over the table, his hand a few inches from me. "That's not true."

"What do you mean it's not true?" I say bitterly. Evan blinks back at me and Caleb stares me down. "Of course it's true, have you seen my arms?!" I say angrily.

"Myla," Caleb warns. "I know you're upset but we are not the enemy. We are only trying to help you."

"Then don't be angry at me for what I did, she deserved it," I huff out, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

"We aren't mad," Evan says, grabbing my attention again. "You know I hate violence but she upset you, what she said was unfair and out of order. She might have deserved it but in real life you can't just go around punching people."

"Well I can try," I reply quickly.

"What we are trying to say is that you need to deal with your anger in other ways," Caleb places his hand onto Evan's shoulder, giving him a squeeze. I knew this was hard for him, to find out your daughter can throw punches is probably going to alarm him.

"Then why did you teach me self-defence if I can't use it?" I question.

"The clue is in the title, self-defence. You threw the first punch, I didn't give you a class in fighting. Did I?" Caleb's expression is challenging me.

My eyes want to roll at his annoying tone. "Guess not," I mumble to myself.

"Sorry can't hear you," he leans forward over the table.

I stick my tongue into my cheek, despising when Caleb spoke to me like a child. "I said guess not," I announce loudly.

"That's what I thought," he nods to himself.

My eyes stare him down across the table, Evan sits up in his seat and attempts to cool down the air. "So let's discuss what Myla can do when she gets angry instead of using violence,"

Caleb tears his eyes away from me and agrees with Evan. "Yes, that was the whole point of this conversation," he breathes out harshly.

"Why don't you try and channel your anger into words instead?" Evan suggests and opens up his hands to me.