Scream of Sorrow [ON HOLD]

ELEVEN

Reagan couldn't recall the last time she sat around a dining table with homemade food.

She felt so giddy when she helped Tate set the table and felt as if she was some excited kid.

But she also felt something break inside her. How ridiculous was it for her to be so excited over something as simple as sitting around a dinning table with food and company.

Leo knew how to cook.

With the help of Tate and Toby he had prepared a dish of chicken gravy, jasmine rice and mashed potatoes. 

She watched Evan shoveling the food down his throat and washing away the taste with a swig of wine.

"What is this?" ten-year-old Reagan asked.

"This?" said her father gruffly over a plate of white, unseasoned rice. He was holding a glass with a reddish liquid that he kept refilling from the bottle next to him.

Reagan nodded, casting her gaze away. 

"Come here, girl."

She flinched.

"COME HERE AND DON'T JUMP LIKE A PATHETIC WHORE!"

She let out a squeak of fear and immediately went to his side. He smiled, filled his glass from the bottle and put it in front of her.

"This's wine. Alcohol. Makes you feel fucking great."

"Richard," muttered her mother over her own plate, glaring at the girl. "We don't want a drunk around, we can't afford for both of you."

Richard ignored his wife and handed his daughter the glass. "Dear Reagan, do you not like a good dare?"

She nodded excitedly, holding the glass with both hands. 

"Drink up. The whole thing. Before I count to ten."

Reagan looked at her mother for confirmation but she was scrolling through her phone now. The little girl frowned and raised the glass to her lips. 

"Hang on, close your nose," said Richard, his eyes amused. "If you don't drink the whole thing, Reagy, I still have that belt, you know."

Reagan paled, plucked her nose and began to drink. But she coughed at how aggressive the taste was on her throat and dropped the glass to the floor. 

Richard snarled and grabbed the bottle, putting it on her mouth and pulling her hair back so that she could tilt her head . . .

Reagan had woken up in the hospital for alcohol poisoning not a day after.

But that didn't mean that her father had stopped giving her alcohol after that night. Nor did it stop him from forcing her to smoke a cigarette every night after her fourteenth birthday. And slowly, he didn't need to force her to do anything anymore. 

She could do it all alone.

"Reagan?"

She jerked, startling. They were all staring at her and she flushed, noticing that she had knocked her spoon off the table. With no appetite left, she picked her spoon and stood up, grabbing her glass and downing it in one go. "I'm full. You cook well, Leo. Bon appetite."

And she rushed towards the bathroom. Audrey stared after her and then glanced at the unfinished plate.

Something was horribly wrong.