Right Hook (Gaslight series) COMPLETE

49| Worth it

Alyssa ♔
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The walk down my drive feels like I'm walking on Death Row. Each step feels loud and heavier than the last, but I don't slow down. Slowing down only prolongs the inevitable, and I want this over with.

Deep breath. In my head, I'm rehearsing what I'll say when I get to them. I'm sorry, I'll say first to appease them, but it wasn't Max's fault. Justin started the fight, and Max was just defending me. Not that I think this will work. My parents aren't exactly the understanding type, but maybe if I try to reason and get them to listen, this won't have to end in tatters.

I'm nearly at the end of the driveway. The house stands tall and proud in the distance, but its sight no longer comforts me. Once upon a time, this house was my haven, the one place where I felt happiest; now, it's a place I avoid.

Their frosty expressions greet me at the door. I fall to a stop a few feet away,  taking the pair of them in. Mom has been crying. She's not usually one for tears, but today her eyes are red and blotchy, shadowed by faint dark circles. They've been arguing all night; I can tell by the bags that sit beneath Dad's eyes and how they both seem so unraveled. By this time, my parents are usually preened and proper, ready to start the day – things must be worse than I thought.

They don't say a word as they step aside to let me into the house. I hold my breath, walking further into the hallway before turning around. It seems absurd when I think about how afraid I am. These are my parents, the people who raised me. How can facing them be terrifying?

And yet I am. Terrified, I mean. Last night, as I hurried after Max, the look on my mother's face was enough to let me know this indiscretion will not be forgiven. Which begs the question: what now?

I don't have to wait long for an answer. Dad trails into the living room first and takes a seat on the sofa, followed by Mom. I sit opposite, hands folded in my lap as I try to stop my foot from tapping. My stomach feels like it's being shredded.

Dad leans forward to place his hands on his knees. He's had several cups of coffee; I can tell by how his fingers start to tap against the cotton of his trousers. It's not often that someone as prim as my father appears so...unraveled.

"You are not to see that boy again," Dad starts. His voice is stern and somewhat clipped, a sign that he's angry. It's a rare occurrence to see my father like this, so my mother sits tensely beside him. "This is for your own good, Alyssa. You're being manipulated by that–"

Somehow, I find my voice. "Max isn't manipulating me." I want to add, you are, but I'm not quite that strong yet. "If anything, he's the one person who isn't."

Silence fills the room as the three of us stare at one another. Mom glances at Dad before turning back to me. Despite the red and teary eyes, she's a little more put together than he is. Her hair is glossy and pulled into a bun, her makeup dewy, and she's selected a pale yellow dress for the occasion that brings out her tan. If I could forget about the party by some stroke of luck, I could look at her and think all was fine.

"Alyssa," she says now, her voice soft, which means I'm not going to like what she says. "You're being blinded by your feelings for that boy. You can't see him for what he is the way we can."

My fingers clench as I take them both in. How can they possibly sit here and talk to me about manipulation? How do they have the audacity?

"Look," Dad snaps, rising to his feet, "this isn't up for discussion, young lady. That act your little friend pulled last night was unacceptable. Do you know how much damage control your mother and I will have to do? And I can kiss that business deal goodbye."