Falsity

~Part Three~

When Sol arrived at home, she stood outside her door for an extra couple of minutes. She wasn't able to make dinner yet, having been gone longer than intended, so there was a chance her father was going to be pissed when she entered.

Her thoughts were put at ease when she finally walked in, immediately spotting the familiar sight of her father knocked out with a beer bottle in his hand.

He was still dressed in his work uniform which consisted of a stained navy shirt and pants. His shirt was unbuttoned showing off his white tank top, his beer gut peeking out. That was his usual outfit everyday unless he was off from work, and even then he was usually called in.

Troye Williams was a welder and one of the best despite his social skills. He worked at many plants, with contracts always ending and news ones being offered he was rarely out of work, although all the money seemed to vanish by the end of the week either going to bills or his habits.

Sol always seemed to be the one picking up his messes, ever since the move she was all he had. And even though most would give up on the lost cause, Sol knew deep down that the man just had issues. At least that was something she always told herself to help ease the deep ache she always felt.

Tonight was no different. So she began picking up the mess.

The bottles that added up throughout her day at school and some that were probably from days before seemed to be endless, there were cans that were empty and others that were half way gone. She put the unfinished ones back in the fridge, he somehow always knew when she wasted his beer.

Missing the sight of a broken bottle next to him she went to grab the one next to it and ended up cutting the palm of her hand. "Shit!" She hissed, holding the hand up to her chest. She ran to the bathroom, trying to find something to stop the bleeding.

After what seemed like forever she finally stopped the bleeding and was currently staring at herself in the mirror, her reflection giving away just how anxious she was. Her lips were chapped and peeling from constantly biting, her dark skin unusually pale, and the circles under her eyes were deep and dark.

Picking up a strand of hair, she twirled it between her fingers. She smiled, her teeth showing along with her smile lines. As if to practice, not used to the action.

Walking out her bathroom Sol made sure her steps were light, not wanting to wake her dad. The messes he caused were nothing compared to when his sleep was disturbed.

Her bedroom was at the end of the shotgun house, making it easier for her to go unheard since the living room was at the entrance. It seemed to be a blessing and a curse because he would rarely see her unless she was leaving.

Tonight though, sneaking out would not be a problem for her.

Quickly grabbing her makeup from her room she made her way back to the bathroom. Flinching whenever she grabbed the doorknobs too hard.

She used more energy than ever today, the constant talking and walking to her interview was taking its toll. It didn't help that for the past hour there was a constant nagging of whether she was going to the party or not.

That left another hour to decide if she really wanted to go or not. This would be the first party she goes to, making it a bigger deal. Although it wasn't like she never got invited, she had, random people would come up to her all the time. It weirded her out how they didn't even know her name but said she could come.

To them she was just another person who could spread the word, but she was invited personally this time. By Charlie.

No one ever wanted her around for just her. It killed her to know this but she understood that for years now.

Looking down she sighed, staring at the last piece of evidence of her mom. It was a dark purple lipstick that always stayed on her person.

When her mom left she took everything but her makeup, as if she wanted to leave a message for Sol. Or that could've been something Sol made up to deal with the trauma, she was a kid when it happened.

Because of this the only makeup she wore was dark. Dak eyeshadow, dark shade of lip wear, and black eyeliner. It made her feel connected with the woman she barely knew.

She didn't wear makeup often though, it wouldn't surprise her if most of it was expired when she finally used it. However, the one product that was continuously used and bought again was the purple lipstick. Same brand, same shade, and repeat. It became her favorite.

That was her reason for wanting to go. She wanted to put on makeup, get drunk, and forget everything was happening in her life. She wanted to release the built up resentment against herself after holding herself back for the past two years.

Staying in this house was like torture. The eerie quiet that was only disturbed when her dad woke from his alcohol induced coma, only to crack another bottle of beer to start the day off before he ended it with glasses of whiskey.

Looking back in the mirror she glared, "If he can do it, so can I."

Quickly she went to work.

After putting the final touches of her makeup on she ran into her room to find something to wear.

The outfit consisted of a random t-shirt with dark jean shorts that had rips everywhere, adding some fishnets underneath, and a sweater to keep her warm if it was chilly.

She wore her most comfortable sneakers, preparing for the walk in case it was longer than she was used to.

Checking the time she grabbed everything she needed and quietly went through the house, checking on her father one last time.

And then she was off.