no dumbass. a girl on the team brought molly.
Melissa:
and some other pink stuff that made Eric fucking catatonic
“Andrea, would you like to tell us what’s more important than supper with your family?”
Fuckingfuck.
My gaze lifts to meet my father’s steely glare. I know better than to look away when addressed. I’ve been conditioned to fall inline. To obey. To quietly accept my place in his household and fulfill my duties. But I’m past the point of intimidation.
“Maybe if we were actually talking to each other, I wouldn’t feel the need to check my phone.”
Lilly’s fork clatters to her plate.
Mama gapes at me, aghast. “How dare you disrespect your father?”
Fury fumes from the head of the table; the vein in his temple pulses like a warning siren. I drop my napkin on my mostly untouched meal and push my chair back to stand.
“Respect is earned.”
It’s a match thrown on a pile of dynamite.
He backhands the full glass of wine, sending dark red spraying like blood splatter across the sheer curtains, staining the walls and dripping on the carpet. Rising from his seat, his knuckles dig into the polished wood, nostrils flaring with each furious breath.
“You’re housebound until you’ve atoned. Right now, you will go to your room until morning. Any more retaliation and I will confiscate your phone. It would serve you to read your scripture and remember the commandment, honor thy father and mother.”
Atone. What a laughable demand.
Scriptures and commandments are nothing but threats and unrealistic expectations. God doesn’t care. If he did, I wouldn’t be marching upstairs with tears burning in my eyes and rage in my chest. If he did, I wouldn’t be on the receiving end of unwarranted punishment.
I slam the door and throw myself on the bed.
Adrenaline fizzles out. I try to cling to the scraps of anger, but they’re twisting into resentment and resignation. Fresh tears blur my vision.
Hopeless. That’s all I feel. And it’s heavy.
Rolling onto my stomach, I scroll through my contacts. My thumb hovers over my best friend’s name. Once upon a time, I had no issue calling Remy. He’d let me vent until I got it out of my system and we’d inevitably start laughing about somethingstupid. Now, he’s got enough weighing him down. What he’s dealing with is exponentially worse than my bullshit. Dumping this on him, too, would be selfish.
I can handle it on my own.
I always do.
I’ll be fine.
I’ll be fine.
I’ll be fine.
The phone slides from my grip as I tremble with silent cries.
I miss my best friend.
Twenty-Five
SEBA
I should text her.
