12 - Fights & Paintings

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Dylan's PoV:

{ ok, I'll be there in 20}

I hit the send button and then close my phone.

I get up from my bed, making my way to the closet, changing my clothes to a fresh pair of shirt and jeans.

The screaming from earlier resurfaces as the shouting makes its way upstairs reaching my room and sends a nauseous feeling through my stomach. It feels like I've been hit in the gut.

You'd think you'd get used to it, nevertheless every time still feels like tge first time.

There's no making things right, not when they've been wrong for as long as I can remember.

I shoulder my backpack and close the door to my bedroom behind me, I make my way hastily downstairs, not wanting to get thrown in the middle of a fight I didn't want to be part of.

My feet skip two steps at a time as discretely as possible, trying not to make my presence announced.

For my unfortunate luck, my legs stumble at the last step and I reach the ground with a loud thud that draws unwanted attention.

I sigh when I notice both my parents taking their eyes off of each other and eyeing me instead.

"Where the fuck you think you're going?" Dad shouts with a booming voice that'll make anyone flinch. Not me though, I'm used to this.

"Leave him alone, let him go wherever he wants" Mom defends me and ushers with her head towards the main door.

I sigh inwardly, this is nothing unusual, this is the norm.
I'm sick of this norm to be honest.

"I'm asking you a question boy. I'm expecting an answer!" He yells once he notices I'm not opening my mouth and words aren't coming out of it to justify myself.

" I'm going out" I say nonchalantly and start walking towards the door.
The bastard starts following me with raised fists thinking he'll get to have his way with me.

That was in the past. I no longer let him land a jab.
It's only a couple of months till I become 18 and legally move out.

"Leave him be! What do you want from him?!" Mom screams trying to gain his full attention, buying me enough time for sliding through the door that I wish I can exit without returning.

Once I'm outside, fresh air and the strangled shouts of a fight slam me in the face. I take a deep set of calming breaths to relax my accelerating heartbeats.

The things I do to him in my head...
I've probably planned his murder over a thousand million times already, non in which at the end left me sad or grieving. On the contrary, I always wake up with a smile on my face when I picture him gone. And I know mom feels the same as me.

I slide into my car, place my bag in the passenger seat and ignite the engine, put the car in reverse and pull out onto the road to Sophie's house.

After a 15 minute drive, I finally arrive to her house. It's so huge with pillars carrying the weights of the rectangular shaped bricks that give the house a medieval vibe.

I park the car in the large empty asphalt yard built in front of the house.Though the house looks severely beautiful, I can't help but feel like it's kind of lonely, isolated perhaps.

I walk to the front door and ring the bell expectantly.
A few moments pass questioning if I might've got the wrong house, but my panic disappears once the door is opened by non other than Sophie herself.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting, come on in" She offers with that sweet tone of hers.
And moves back a little allowing me space so I can enter.

I try not to stare so much once I'm inside, but it's hard when her house screams luxury beyond luxury.

Modern art pieces decorate the walls, with different vases and art pieces scattered all around like every high end house you'd see in a tv show or on the front page of a magazine.

"Sorry I woke you up from your nap" I say scratching the back of my neck.
What a way to break the silence Dylan.!,

"Oh no, it's completely fine, I would've woken up on my own either way" She responds and, even though I somehow suspect that being true.

"Come on" She says when she catches me slacking behind, admiring some of the paintings hung on the wall, I focus my eyes on her advancing figure that starts ascending the stairs.

"Come on" She says when she catches me slacking behind, admiring some of the paintings hung on the wall, I focus my eyes on her advancing figure that starts ascending the stairs

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We reach a hallway with too many doors, and strictly she opens the door to what I'm assuming is her room.

My suspicion proves right, when I step in after, noticing the simplicity of the room as a whole.

A huge bed that lays in the middle of the room with black sheets on top, a closet and a vanity table set next to what I think is the adjoining bathroom. Finally, a wooden desk that carries the most organized tools I've ever seen.

She smiles nervously, like I'm going to make fun of her or her room somehow, and to an extent that bugs me.

I don't ever want to think people might be nervous around me, if it says anything, is that I'm not doing the best I can at providing a safe environment for the surrounding people. I don't want to create anxiety ever. I wish to walk around with poise and calmness that inspires others.

Enough with the rant, I smile back "Nice room Soph". At my words her intense shoulders relax a bit and I'm glad for the little progress we're making.

"Thanks" She replies and we make our way to the bed, each seated at an edge, keeping more than adequate distance between us.

"Should we get started?" She asks sprinting to her desk bringing over the books and materials.

I open my backpack and start taking out books. "Sure".

She returns to her spot and we resume the project.

•••

A/n:

I wrote this chapter after probably 2 or 3 months of not making any progress. I'm proud of this❣️

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