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“DO NOT MAKE ME COME IN THAT FUCKING ROOM!” My dad yells. “GET YOUR ASSES OUT HERE NOW!”
I’ve never in all my life heard my dad sound so … livid. Irritated, sure. Mad, sometimes. But so angry he sounds like he’s ready to commit murder? Never.
Hollis swings open the bedroom door, and immediately falls back into me, both of us crashing to the floor. He cradles his jaw and I look from him to my dad standing in the doorway.
My dad’s face is red, purple in places like he’s forgotten how to breathe and is close to passing out. His shoulders are bunched nearly to his shoulders and one hand is still raised in a fist.
“You punched him,” I shriek, horrified. “What is wrong with you?”
His eyes are wild, like a rabid animal, and in this moment I don’t know him. Not at all. He’s certainly not my dad, the man who has raised me as his own.
“I told you to stay way from my daughter,” he shouts, pointing down at Hollis. “I warned all of you she was off limits. But especially … especially you.”
“Why?” Hollis asks. “Because she’s too pure? And I’m what? Fucked up? A loser?”
“You’re a user. You use people to get what you want and then you go on your merry fucking way. I was young once, fame went to my head, and you might think you’ve gotten a taste of it … but you don’t know anything yet—and I will not let my daughter get drug down a path pining for some asshole musician who will only use her for sex and God knows what else.”
“Dad—”
“Shut up, Mia!”
I flinch.
“I want you gone,” my dad tells Hollis. “You, your band, the contract is over. I’m done with all of you. Get out of town. I never want to see any of you ever again.”
Hollis stands, helping me up. He opens his mouth to speak but I push past him.
“How dare you.” I shove a finger into my dad’s chest. “How. Fucking. Dare. You.” I punctuate each word
with another jab. “I know you weren’t a saint in your past, but you changed—so I guess no one else can then? How fucking hypocritical are you?” I seethe, anger making me shake. Hollis gently holds my elbow to steady me, thankfully my dad doesn’t notice. “Hollis is the best man I’ve ever met. He loves me, and I love him, and I refuse to let you of all people belittle our feelings because you somehow think I’m some little girl you can still tell what to do. I’m an adult and I’m free to love whoever I want.”
“Mia,” Hollis begins softly from behind me.
“No,” I tell him. My eyes glued to my dad’s I continue, “You have no right to be angry. You have no right to tell Hollis or anyone else they can’t sleep with me, or date me, or fuck me,” I add and he winces. “Because that’s my choice. I choose who I share my time, my body, with. Not you. Never you.” I take a breath. “You busting in here like a mad man is beyond ridiculous. If I have dragons needing to be slayed I can do it my damn self. If I needed your help I’d ask. I don’t need you marching around, barking orders, like some Lord or King from the dark ages. How did you even know Hollis was here?” I ask.
He glowers, his jaw working back and forth but I can see the hurt in his eyes from my words. Did he really think I was going to side with him in this situation? I will not be told who I can and cannot love, like my virginity is up for auction to the highest bidder or something.
“The security system,” he explains, his tone quieter than before but no less angry. His gaze is on Hollis now, and if looks could kill … Hollis would not be breathing. “I got an alert of someone entering your apartment at a late hour, so I got on my computer to check the cameras to make sure it was you. By the time I got on my computer and brought it up … well, let’s just say it was like a full blown porno.”
“DAD!” I yell horrified.
This is getting worse and worse. My dad saw me naked. He saw me having sex. Is there any way to come back from this?
“Why on earth did you have cameras installed in my apartment?” I ask, instead of voicing my horrors, but they still repeat on loop in my mind.
He saw me naked. He saw me having sex. He saw me naked. He saw me having sex.
I feel like throwing up.
“I thought it was the safest thing, if someone broke in we’d have them on camera. Have their face. Fuck,” he curses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t fucking believe this.” He looks up at the ceiling.
I begin to cry. “I can’t believe you saw that.” I press a hand over my mouth, fighting back the vomit creeping up my throat.
“Believe me, I wish I never had,” he says, his eyes reluctantly meeting mine.
“You need to get out,” I tell him. “I can’t … I can’t look at you right now. I’m too angry, and hurt, and … just go, please, Josh.”
I’ve never called my dad by his first name. He’s always been daddy or dad. But right now … I don’t even recognize him.
