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“After your indiscretions these last few years, I refuse to take any more chances.” My father’s tone is certain, unwavering, and it drips a thick douse of dread into my veins.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
His lip curls up, and he looks absolutely livid. “Watch your mouth, Lakyn,” he growls.
I bite my tongue.
My parents have kept my bad deeds under wraps, completely burying them to never be revealed. My senior year in high school, I was caught shoplifting on multiple occasions. Then that summer, I was pulled over for drinking and driving, crashing into a light post. The worst one, the one that is never spoken of, was when I snuck into my professor’s class at the beginning of the year. The professor who had it out for me, who made lewd sexual comments and then decided to fail me when I slapped him across the face.
So, what did I do?
I lit the professor’s office on fire. Burnt it to a fucking crisp. I’m not regretful in the slightest. But my parents didn’t take lightly to the fact that a camera showed me flipping it off with a gas can in hand.
Being the governor’s daughter is fucking tiresome. Always having to play nice, be respectful, put on the dutiful smile to please the family and the civilians is more exhausting than staying up for a week straight without an ounce of sleep. I hate it, and it’s caused me to go against the grain. I don’t swim with the current. I’ve always swum away from it.
I’m fucking rebellious, because I want to be, because I can be, because it makes me fucking happy that I can wear a dress during the day and smile, then flip off the world at night and let my damn guard down.
But my parents hate it. And from the look in their eyes right now, even if I bleed from my mouth and continue to tell them I had nothing to do with what happened, they won’t believe me.
I might be an adult, and I might be in college, but I’m always under their thumb.
If I’m not under the thumbs of the boys, I’m under the thumbs of my parents.
I’m fucking trapped, now and forever.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say calmly.
My father smiles, as if he has cameras on him from every direction. “You don’t have a say in the matter. If I find out in any way you were involved in this, you will be paying for your mistakes for a very, very long time.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I have nothing to do with this.”
He tucks his tanned hands into his trousers. “Glad to hear it. It doesn’t mean I believe you, and it doesn’t change the fact that you’ll be going to stay with your aunt and uncle for six months while we once again clean up your mess. It will do you some good to get some respect and discipline under your belt.”
My eyes widen. “Fucking Aunt Cindy and Uncle Dan in Montana? Absolutely fucking not!” I roar. “I’m an adult. I don’t have to go anywhere.”
He pulls his phone from his pocket, dialing a number and sticking it against his ear.
My eyes widen, and I turn toward my mom. Panic fills me, and I feel twitchy, out of control. “Who is he calling? What’s going on? Mom, you can’t let him do this!” I scream, my heart pounding in my ears.
Her eyes grow watery, though her face remains impassive. “I’m sorry, dear. Things have just gone too far this time.”
My hands fly into the air. “I didn’t do anything!”
“Come on in,” my dad says simply before hanging up the phone.
I turn around to my nightstand, ready to grab my phone, when I notice it’s empty. My phone is always on my nightstand. “What did you do with my phone?” I cry out.
Both my mom and dad watch me blankly as I lose my damn mind in front of them.
Fight or flight, and I choose fight.
“I’m not staying. I’ll go stay with Eloise or Posie.” I dart toward the door, when two hulking figures walk through it. Two of my dad’s other minions, along with George. All look not even an ounce remorseful.
“Stay the fuck away from me!” I scream.
They don’t falter, striding up to me with ease and gripping my arms. I flail against them, but their restraint is unyielding, and I’m dragged out of my room in a second.
“Mom, please! Mom!” The plea is ripped from my throat, and I can’t stop the flow of tears as they break from my eyes and flow down my cheeks. “I’ll never forgive you for this, Dad! Not ever! You think I’m bad? What about you, huh? You think your fucking rap sheet is clean, no blemishes? Take a look at yourself in the mirror, Father! You’re corrupt as hell! You all are!” The men’s arms around me squeeze tight, and I kick at their shins, making them stop in their step.
