Playing the Player (17)

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Hello my lovely book nuggets! That's right it's me. I'm not dead (yet). Still alive and writing. Sorry for the delay. If someone had told me college was so hard I would have just taken my chances as a stripper. Too late for that now (or is it?).

Anyway, here's a chapter for you patient nuggets!

This chapter goes to @boredpineapplex @rajfesluz @Praise_10 @twofaced24824 Thank you for your support!
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My pencil taps against my lips as I try to focus on the thousand word essay that I'm supposed to turn in tomorrow.

However, my mind has been drifting to the events that had taken place in just a matter of days.

Garret Hensley professed his 'love' for me.

I kissed him.

I kissed Jax.

Got arrested.

Playing the player just got a whole lot more complicated.

I toss my pencil down and press my forehead against my desk with a groan. There's no way I could possibly put my thoughts about Edgar Allen Poe's poem down on paper in the form of a thousand words by tomorrow. How could I when all I can think about is the stupid player and my past tormentor?

It was late, the sun had long since set and thanks to track practice here I am at 12 in the morning doing homework. I just don't know what to do. I'm in uncharted territory.

Ice cream. I need some ice cream.

I lift my head and my heart nearly jumps out of my chest as my eyes land on the person standing in my doorway.

The only person I've come to fear.

"Dad," my voice waivers as I take in the look on his face.

I can tell that he's probably had a few drinks, but is still somewhat sober. Which would be a good thing if he didn't have an extremely pissed off expression occupying his face.

"Would you like to tell me why I had to hear from Jeff Grift that my daughter paid a visit to the police station for underage drinking and disturbance of the peace?"

Jeff Grift, aka chief of police.

I push my chair back and stand up slowly.

"Dad, I swear I can explain. I-"

"Or maybe you'd like to explain why I got a call from your principal about how you walked out of school?"

He pushes off the doorframe and steps closer to me.

At this point I'm shaking. There's nowhere to run.

"I leave for work and you think it's ok to go off and do whatever? What makes you think any of this is ok, Valentine?"

Something in me snaps a little, "Maybe the fact that you're never home and when you are you're drunk off your ass."

His face darkens and I no longer recognize this man before me, I haven't for a while now.

"My daughter will not speak to me this way," he says lowly.

"You lost the privilege of calling me your daughter the day you chose a liquor bottle over me," I throw back.

It happens so fast and so unexpectedly that I loose my balance and fall to the floor. Tears fill my eyes and my hand shoots up to cup my stinging right cheek. A metallic tasting liquid coats the inside of my mouth, probably due to my teeth hitting the inside of my cheek.

Of all the drunken rampages, there's one thing my father never did, and that was hit me.

Until today.

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