07. trash

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*Trigger Warning* this chapter includes excessive swearing, some violence, & an alcoholic parent

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*Trigger Warning* this chapter includes excessive swearing, some violence, & an alcoholic parent

SHIT.

My father's eyes widen as he and my mother continue down the sidewalk, his gaze fixed on me. He grabs my mother by the arm and yanks her along, his pace quickening, and I realize he's headed straight for the door of the diner.

Shit, shit, shit.

Dally's still laughing at his sausage joke, obliviously. I spring up, suddenly nauseous.

"I-I, I gotta go," I say, sickness overcoming me as I stumble out of the booth.

Dal's face pales as he notices my sudden change in demeanor. Before I can make a dash for the bathroom to hide, he reaches out for my arm. "Glory, I'm sorry, I was just kiddin–"

I nod my head, and tug my arm away. "–No, no, it's not you–"

"YOU!"

Oh God.

The diner falls silent. It takes every inch of courage I have to force my eyes up to look at my father. My mother's just standing behind him like a damn coward, or some stupidly possessed minion.

"Gloria Jean Cade, I'd like to know why the goddamn cops showed up at my door last night at three-o'clock in the fuckin' morning."

I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out – I can hardly breath.

"I'd also, like to know where the hell my pathetic excuse for a son is, and you," he sneers, pointing a thick finger, "are gonna tell me, right the fuck now."

My father starts stalking towards me, past the other tables and booths. I back up slowly, until I have nowhere left to go.

I shake my head, close to tears.

"I-I don't–"

"–NOW!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" I scream so loud, even my father seems taken aback.

I can see in his eyes that he believes me. But I've pissed him the fuck off. I notice his hand by his side, curling into a fist.

My father lunges straight at me, and I clench my eyes shut, awaiting the impact.

But it never comes.

Confused, I open one eye, and then the other – Dally'd gotten out of the booth, and has hold of my father by the wrist.

"If you ever think of touching her, ever again, I will beat the living shit outta you, I swear to god."

I don't think I've ever seen my father look so small in his life. I mean, he's a pretty big guy, still an inch or two taller than Dallas. But for the first time, it seems like he's found an even match.

𝑭𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒌 | d. winstonWhere stories live. Discover now