Chasing Shadows | ✓

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"WHO WAS THAT LAST NIGHT?"

A chill ran through my spine as I heard his voice. I froze with my handle on the door. Father's deep voice rumbled out behind me, stopping me in my tracks. A dejected sigh left my lips as the thought of sneaking out unnoticed fell flat.

"I asked you a question boy," He snarled when I didn't reply. "Don't ignore me."

When I turned to face him, there was nothing but anger present on his face. His eyes were narrowed in cold, harsh stare, pinning me down. I drew in a shaky breath, forcing myself not to appear affected.

"No one," I rasped, clearing my voice. "Forget about it."

I knew by the expression on his face that my words had only angered him more. Dread crept over me like an icy chill, numbing my brain.

"Excuse me?" He chuckled, but it wasn't because what I said was funny. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he took a step forward. "This is my home, not yours. I have a right to know what kind of tramps you're bringing in late at night."

I swallowed down the anger that threatened to explode. While waves of fury rolled off me as the blood rose to my cheeks, I forced myself to stay still and set my steely glare on him.

"She's not a tramp," I hissed, "Don't talk about her like that."

"Do you expect me to believe anyone else would step six feet in your direction?" He scoffed in disbelief. "Don't be foolish in thinking you're something special just because everyone else knows you as my son."

My knuckles had turned white from clenching my fists too hard and an ache entered my mouth from gritting my teeth in an effort to remain silent. But even then, I breathed out through my nose harshly and kept my calm. Natalia's smiling face kept flashing in my mind for some reason, and the thought of even lifting a hand, had me drowning in guilt.

"Fuck off," I spat, my chest heaving up and down with heavy breaths, "I'm going to school. I'll be home later."

"Don't bother." He spoke as I turned to leave, and I stopped in my steps. Facing him, I blinked, a blank expression on my face.

"What?"

"I'm having important guests over later," He explained with a sneer. "I don't want you here when they come."

"Where the hell do you want me to go, then?" I spluttered, "How long will they be here?"

His face was mottled a dark crimson, and his eyes were nearly popping from their sockets. Without wiping away the spit from his face, he leaned closer and uttered three words, "I don't care."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a few crumpled notes and tossed them in my face. I flinched back, watching the small papers drift in the air and land on the floor.

"Just find somewhere to stay for tonight," He shrugged. "I don't want to see your face, do you hear me?"

I shook my head in disbelief and stared down at the money on the floor. My fingers curled tightly into small fists, digging my nails into the soft skin. I could almost see myself launching forward and smashing my fist into his nose, splattering red blood on the white walls in my mind. . . And it felt good.

But instead I just replied as if my jaw was wired shut, "Well you can fucking keep your money," I snarled. Pulling my foot back, I kicked the notes back in his direction. "I don't want anything that comes from you."

Amusement lit up his face at my reaction and he bellowed a laugh, "You know what I find funny? The fact that you actually think you're different from me."