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LANDON
After grabbing a couple things from the basement, I headed upstairs for a beer to take to João’s place. I sure as fucking hell needed it after today. I could still feel the sting of Imani’s slap and see the anger and hurt written all across her pretty face.
When I saw Mom and Dad sitting at the kitchen table, I cursed to myself and debated on leaving the house and getting alcohol on the go. One of the bars down in the slums would serve me something—they always did, didn’t care that I had recently turned eighteen.
Mom’s phone buzzed on the counter, and I balled my hands into fists, waiting in the doorway because I knew what was coming. It always came—always. I’d be concerned if Dad didn’t make a comment because that would mean he had drunk himself into an early grave.
Dad lifted his can of beer to drink down the remaining contents. “Who was that?”
Once she glanced at the phone, she turned it over. “Work.”
He snorted, voice gruff. “It’s always work.”
“It is,” Mom snapped.
Dad looked at me but nodded to Mom. “You hear this? Your mother is a liar.”
Mom shot up from the table and slammed her fists down. “Why don’t you believe me?”
“Because you’re a good-for-nothing whore.” Dad seethed, then held out his hand. “If you don’t have shit to hide, let me see it. Let me see your messages, your fucking profiles, everything in your fucking phone.”
Tears welled up in Mom’s eyes, and I … I … couldn’t fucking handle it. She reminded me of Imani last night after I had done exactly this, exactly what Dad did every freaking time Mom received a message. A heap of guilt washed over me.
“Why can’t I have any privacy?” Mom screamed, grabbing her phone.
I wanted to help her, like I usually did, but I couldn’t move from the spot.
Last night, I had turned into Dad, the man I despised the most.
Before she could move, Dad grabbed her phone from her hand, tore it away from her, and shoved her back, sending her flying against the countertop.
She glared at him but didn’t move to stop him, unlike Imani last night. “There is nothing there!”
Dad scrolled through the phone and shook his head. “What’d you do to his messages? Where are you hiding them?”
“I’m not talking to anyone!”
My heart ached, my throat closing up. All my life, I’d hated Dad, and now … now, I was acting just like that motherfucker to someone that I wasn’t even dating. But I couldn’t even describe that feeling of seeing those other men on Imani’s Discord. I’d felt like I was drowning, like I deserved this pain but refused to accept it.
I wanted her.
I wanted her so bad.
But she didn’t want me.
Nobody did—at least not in a real relationship. Only to fuck.
“You’re a fucking liar,” Dad said to her, jaw clenched.
“She’s not lying.” I finally spoke up, nodding at Mom to leave the room while she could.
If she stayed any longer and continued to fight with him, it would get worse for all of us. It always did, every freaking night.
They were the reason I’d started talking to people online. I’d needed an escape.
“She’s a whore.”
“No, she’s not.”
