Something There

Chapter Twenty-Four

My mom tries to break my grip but I pin her arms to her side, and she doesn't have the strength to fight back.

My dad uses his good arm to reach into his pocket, and when he recovers his phone he quickly presses a few buttons on the screen before holding the device up to his ear.

"Nine-one-one?" I ask, and he nods at me.

I wince when I see the blood staining his shirt, and as much as want to go over and help him, I still have to hold this madwoman down.

I wake up from the nightmare to find my flailing body being pinned to the ground.

"Jesus Christ, kid," my dad huffs, grabbing on of my hands and pulling me up into a sitting position. "Do you have any clue how terrifying it is to walk into the room and find your son on the floor screaming?"

"No, I don't," I answer dryly. "In case you've yet to notice, I actually don't have a son."

My dad's glare makes me rethink my words, and I blink a few times in realization before warning, "Don't go there."

He elbows me in the side before standing up, and offering me a hand.

My dad pulls me up off the ground and I'm instantly dizzy, my head feeling heavy as the room spins around me.

"Stop being a smart ass," he scolds, hauling me over to the couch before letting me drop backwards onto the cushions.

He then spots the nearly empty bottle of whisky, picking it up in his hand and holding it up in my face.

"Really? What did you do this time?" he asks, acknowledging my bad habit of getting drunk whenever I screw up. He then sets the bottle back on the coffee table before he takes a seat on the chair next to the couch that I'm on.

My head is pounding to an extreme, and all I can manage is a one-word answer.

"Lexi," I tell him, and his eyebrows raise up.

"Well shit. What's the issue?" he continues to prod, and as much as I'd love to tell him to kindly fuck off and go mind his own business, I'm really not in the mood to get my ass beat right now.

"I kissed her. And then she got mad at me for not wanting to date her or some shit and then I got mad because she thinks that me kissing her twice means that I want to be in a relationship with her. Like damn, it's just kissing. I've done more with girls I despise," I snort, and that's when I get slapped in the arm.

"You're being unreasonable and acting like a child. You should respect her thoughts and stop belittling her for them," my dad tells me, and I groan, my head throbbing too much for this shit. I shut my eyes, burying my face into a pillow.

"Whose side are you even on? And yeah, I know that she's way too good for me, but I keep telling her and she won't listen. I'm such a shitty person," I sigh.

"You're not a shitty person. You just often make shitty decisions," my dad says, and I roll my eyes even though he can't see it.

"Gee, thanks," I comment, and he pats me on the back.

"You can't expect her to wait around for you to get your shit together," he tells me, and I don't argue because I know he's right.

I hear him stand up from his seat, ruffling my hair before walking past me and out of the living room.

"Go take your contacts out and get some sleep. You can clean up this mess in the morning," he tells me, shutting off all the lights.

"Did you at least take your medication?" he continues to ask, and I shake my head before realizing that he can't see me.

"No. I don't like having that crap in my system," I answer, and he snorts in response.

"You don't like having prescription Xanax in your system but you're fine with having a whole bottle of whisky?" he asks, and I raise my hand up, giving him the middle finger.

"Really mature, Bryce," he says, his footsteps sounding as he resumes his journey upstairs.

I sit up in my seat, watching as he walks out into the hallway before I stop him.

"She doesn't realize that I know," I tell him, and he turns back to me.

"She doesn't?"

I shake my head in response.

"Talk to her. When the time is right. Don't bring it up for no reason," he instructs, and I nod at him.

"Thanks, dad. I love you," I say, laying back down on the couch knowing damn well that there's no way I can make it back up to my room in this drunken state.

"I love you too, kid. Goodnight," my dad says, before walking out of my view.

I lay there helplessly, staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall back asleep. My heart physically aches, and no matter how hard I'm trying to ignore the pain right now, I end up in tears.

A/N: Seeing Bryce this hurt genuinely makes me feel so sad </3