Heartbreak in Stereo

Just One More Night Being Mediocre

Chapter Two

I closed the front door behind me with a soft click and cringed at how the small sound echoed throughout the large and lonely halls. I glanced at my only escape; the stairs. If I could get up there then I'd hopefully be home free for the rest of the evening. With carefully calculated steps, I tiptoed silently and reached for the banister, almost tasting the freedom.

"Rowan Murdoch! What time do you call this?" My father's cold voice barked, shattering the silence.

I jumped and withdrew my hand, meeting his hard stare. He towered well over me, his arms folded across his chest and his lips pressed into a thin line. He was always like this and frankly it scared the shit out of me. Hell, it would scare anyone. Seventeen years and I still couldn't get used to his bitter attitude towards me.

"I-I'm sorry, sir. It's just that I uh, got a little too heavily invested in my studying, that's all. I-I lost track of time." I stuttered and I could feel my hands shaking, desperately rubbing them on my jeans to get rid of the clammy feeling. My heart was beating rapidly and my eyes were as wide as saucers. If looks could kill, I would be nothing but dust right now.

He paused for a moment to sniff the air. His dark eyes narrowed and he suddenly lashed out to grab a fistful of my sweater, bringing the fabric to his nose before shoving me away. I stumbled back, my nerves reaching an all-time peak.

"You've been smoking, haven't you? Haven't you?! And don't you dare lie to me, you're still not too old for a good smack young lady." He growled.

I shook my head furiously. "N-no! I swear I haven't! I just passed a few people who were."

My answer only seemed to enrage him more.

"What have I told you about that goddamned stuttering? You know, I think you do it intentionally to piss me off." He snarled.

I stayed silent, fixing my eyes on the intricate patterns of the carpet that I was standing on. In one swift motion he delivered a sharp slap to my face, the sound similar to the crack of a whip. My head snapped to the right, and my left cheek felt numb for a moment, but then it was on fire. My bottom lip began to quiver but I defiantly held back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"Get out of my sight, I don't want to see your face down here for the rest of the day!" He shouted with unyielding fury.

I didn't need to be told twice. I sprinted up the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping over my shoelaces. I didn't dare look back, fearful that he might change his mind and drag me back for seconds.

I quietly closed my bedroom door. There was nothing my dad hated more than the sound of someone slamming a door. I chucked my bag to the other side of the room, not caring that the contents spilled out across my floor as I slid down to the ground, tears freely streaming down my face.

I tried to ignore the stinging sensation in my cheek. Instead, I thought about Frank. I wondered what he was doing right now. I thought about my life and how pathetically miserable it was. It was nothing but facts, figures, and books. It was driving me insane, but there wasn't really anything I could do about it. Well, I could run away, but there was no chance in hell that I would have the balls to do that.

I hauled myself to my feet and let out a huge breath that I felt I had been holding in forever, tugging a shaky hand through my dark bedraggled hair. I glanced at myself in the full-length mirror across the room and was not surprised to see that my makeup was escaping halfway down my face.

I sighed and kicked my shoes off before crawling into my bed, half-heartedly pulling my covers across my body. If I couldn't do anything then I might as well sleep.