Less than Perfect

11. Facade {part one}

                                     Chapter Eleven 

                                           Facade

                                         Part One

   "Johnny!" Skye screamed, pushing her hands against the arms securely wrapped around her. "Let go of me," she sobbed, fighting the man whose grip was too strong for her state of strength.

   "Princess," He drawled, laughing as he twisted them around so that he was on top of her, "You believe me, right?"

   She glared at him, hatred surging through every vein in her body. "No," she spat, looking him straight in the eyes.

   He stared back at her, chuckling, a tainted anger clear in his eyes. "It's true, Princess, he's the one who brought me into your life—your real father."

   She sucked in her breath, biting her lip so that she didn't scream, and turned her head away from him. She didn't want him to see her crying, figuring that it would only upset him further than she knew he already was inside. "My father couldn't have done that to us, he couldn't have set this life up for me and Leah." She said quietly, irritation and tears choking any clarity in her voice away.

   "He did, Skylar," He used one hand to stroke the side of her face, "Of course, he had no idea who I was, he only knew that he needed someone to watch over you both and I was there at the time. He was a selfish man, really; always wanting to have his dirty work done by someone else when he could have just confronted it. If only someone could have taught him the facts of life back then; maybe you wouldn't be in this situation right now." The coolness in his voice was tainted with a dark hint of anger, a sound so bitter it left a horrible distaste in Skye's mouth.

   She wanted to slap Johnny—no, she wanted to kill her father; after all, it was all because of him that Johnny had ever found her and Leah. Even more, it was all because of him that she was even living a life cocked full of lies and secrets, a tragedy seemingly just as bad as death itself in her own mind. Still, everything that she suffers through seems worth trying through, no matter how bad it can get.  

   She choked on the tears caught in her throat, threatening to release sobs that would weaken her. She needed a lot more strength, more space, more—something. Her concentration was lost in a sea of confusion and anger, torn between the bitter truths. "You're saying that my father, who left before I was even born, came back five years later to find us again?  You're saying that he screwed things up, but are you forgetting how much you have screwed up, too? I may not know him, but if he wanted those pictures for himself then why didn't he just take them himself? It doesn't add up, Johnny; nothing you say ever adds up." She spoke the words quietly, feeling her heart sink a little.

   She wanted to believe in her father, in Derik, somehow and by some incredible strength; but with the ties that started to unwind before her, she didn't think she could anymore. Derik had hurt them, not physically as Johnny has hurt Skye, but emotionally—the hardest way to get over.

    Johnny wasn't happy with her words, taken aback with a harsh anger that was written all over his face, but he still stayed calm, holding back his anger with such strength and causality he seemed different. "Naïve, little Princess." He muttered, shaking his head and chuckling a little too uncomfortably. "Skylar, he wasn't able to take them himself because he knew that he would get caught. He was married and knew that it would be dangerous to be seen around his ex and her daughter, people would get the wrong idea." Suddenly and without warning, he pushed on Skye's shoulders, pinning her against the bed as he leaned his mouth next to her ear.