Crooked Young (Oli Sykes) ✔️

Chapter 8

I was sitting on my poor make shift of a bed, which consisted of nothing but a mattress on the floor and pillows, when I heard some strange noises outside my window.

My room was on the second floor, so I figured that maybe a bird had gotten stuck in the vines or something. It was dark though, and the small table lamp that illuminated my room wasn't quite enough to let me look out, so I got up from my bed and moved to the window.

I jumped back with my heart beating in my throat when a face suddenly appeared behind my window. It took me a few seconds to get myself together before I finally recognized the grinning outline of the person who just nearly gave me a heart attack.

Oliver.

I scrambled back to the window and shoved it open, lucky him, it went upwards and not outwards. "What are you doing here?!" I whisper-yelled at him.

His grin merely grew wider. "Did I give you a fright again?" He said, almost in a mocking tone.

"Yes, you scared me." I murmured as I crossed my arms over my chest. "But I'll ask you again, what are you doing here?" I snapped, somehow feeling much more confident in the bounds of my own house.

Oliver arched an eyebrow, his grin never faltering. "So feisty." He commented as he started climbing in. "I'm just here to pick you up for the party. I kind of figured you wouldn't come on your own, seeing as you don't even know where my flat is."

"And how exactly do you know where I live?" I countered suspiciously.

"Kellin." He breathed as he finally managed to jump off the windowsill. How rude. "So are you coming or what?"

I pursed my lips and shook my head. I couldn't go. Especially not with my father being right downstairs. Him beating me up was bad enough without actually asking for it.

"Katrina!" I then heard my father bark from down the hall, making me freeze up immediately. He couldn't know that Oliver was here, or anyone for that matter. No one was allowed over. Ever. If anyone would ever enter this house and see the state it was in, they'd know immediately. And my father wouldn't have that.

"You should go, or wait here, I don't know." I whispered nervously as I reached for the door handle.

"I'll just wait here then." Oliver said, folding his hands behind his back. He was no longer grinning, but still looked somewhat self-satisfied. Right now I hated what his demeanor did to me.

He was so calm and collected, while I was practically panicking. Of course, he had no idea what my father was like, so naturally it didn't bother him.

I sighed and left my bedroom, walking down the hallway at a quick pace, meeting my father as he stood at the bottom of the staircase. "What took you so long?" He snapped angrily once he noticed my presence.

"I'm sorry father, I-I was on the phone." I quickly told him. I couldn't believe I just lied to him in order to cover for Oliver. I had never lied to him before.

He stared at me in disapproval and then sighed. "Well, I'll be leaving now. I will be gone for a week, at most, and you are not to tell anyone about my whereabouts, do you understand?"

I nodded quickly. I didn't even know where he was going anyways.

"I'm hoping this trip will clear up some of the mess that your mother left me in."

My eyes widened at his remark about my mother. "Excuse me?" I found myself saying. I regretted it as soon as the words slipped out of my mouth, though.

My father's eyes grew dark as he stared down at me. "What did you just say?" I knew he had heard me clearly, though. He just wanted me to repeat it so he'd have a reason to hit me, even though he would without a reason as well. "If it weren't for you and your stupid mother, I wouldn't be in this mess!" He practically shrieked.

"If it wasn't for her, you wouldn't be here at all. You'd be working a nine-to-five desk job and be heavily underpaid! You wouldn't be living in a mansion and own six cars that are worth millions together!"

I felt the color drain from my face as the words all too effortlessly left my lips. What was I even thinking talking back to my father like this? Did I have a death wish?

His hand flew in my direction, smacking me hard across the face. The impact made me tumble backwards onto the steps of the staircase. "You're lucky I still need you to get your mother's money. Because I assure you, all of it will be mine. I don't even care what happens to you." He seethed before finally grabbing his small suitcase and leaving.

I waited until I heard the front door close before I went back upstairs and into my bedroom. I had almost forgotten that Oliver was there, until I looked up and met his venomous gaze.

"What the hell was that?" He practically demanded to know.

I touched the side of my face where my father had slapped me, quickly wiping away the tear that had fallen down due to the impact. "It was nothing. I'm fine" I simply said, not really knowing where to look.

Oliver unfolded his arms and stepped up to me. "Bollocks." He spat. "I heard what he said. Did he hurt you?"

I stepped back, trying to create a comfortable distance between Oliver and myself. His angry demeanor kind of scared me. And it certainly wasn't helping the situation. "I-I said I'm fine. He's just stressed." I choked.

I could tell that Oliver knew there was more to it, but he didn't ask, which I was grateful for. The state of my bedroom alone should've sparked a list of questions, but he didn't bother. Why would he be bothered though? Why did he even care about my father hurting me?

"So you... mentioned a party?" I then asked, trying to give him my best smile and steering the conversation elsewhere. It worked though, because he visibly relaxed, returning a hopeful smile. "Take me to it." I said.

And with that simple sentence, the confident grin was back in its rightful place, lighting up Oliver's face as it always did. "Are we taking the window... or?"

I chuckled lightly. "Let's just take the back door, shall we? I'm not too keen on potentially breaking my neck."