But I realize if Jude’s not here, and the three girls are still passed out—which, how with this banging—then it’s not coming from inside the dorm, but outside.
More than likely it’s someone on the same floor that’s come to complain about Jude keeping them up last night. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.
Ripping the door wide open, it’s not a fellow student standing on the other side.
It’s my father.
My.
Father.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt, rubbing my eyes in case I’m imagining things. I didn’t drink much last night, but I sure as hell am hoping I’m absolutely plastered right now.
Unfortunately, rubbing my eyes doesn’t work like shaking an Etch-A-Sketch to get rid of the image in front of me.
“I can’t check on my son?” My father’s silvery gray eyes, so light it’s like they were bleached, stare back at me with a challenging look. His thin lips are flat, not an ounce of humor on his face.
“You never have before. To what do I owe this pleasure?” I purposely keep the door open as little as possible to block him from the three naked girls, and landfill worthy number of used condoms.
God-fucking-dammit, Jude!
“I wanted to make sure you were settling back in well.”
“You flew all the way from Vale less than twenty-four-hours after me, to make sure I’m settling in well?” I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest in disbelief. “Mom and you didn’t even bother to bring me freshman year, so I apologize if I’m not buying your bullshit.”
“Let me in.”
Fuck no.
“Why should I?”
“Is there something you don’t want me to find in here, son?”
“I have nothing to hide, but I’m beyond pretending that we have a good relationship. Look around, father, there are no cameras. There’s no need to play pretend.”
“You’re right.” His eyes flash, and it’s only for the fact that I’m caught by surprise that he’s able to shove me hard enough that I stumble back, he forces himself into the dorm.
Rage boils beneath the surface of his skin when he takes in the women on the couch and floor.
“What the fuck?!” He shouts, rushing me. He pushes me into the refrigerator and it literally rocks from side to side. Somehow, none of the girls wake up at his outburst.
“Take your fucking hands off me,” I warn, teeth gritted.
“You can’t tell me what do.” He’s so pissed that his spit hits my face as he speaks.
This time I shove him back and then mockingly dust off my chest like I’m completely unaffected by him manhandling me. The thing about abuse is even when you’re used to it, it still hurts—not only in a physical way, but soul deep, because you know a parent is supposed to protect you, not harm you.
“I warned you about this,” he seethes, finger pointing toward the living area but eyes never leaving my face. His normally pale color is beet red, and a vein in his forehead pulses. I wonder what would happen if I poked that vein.
“This,” I gesture to the girls, “isn’t my mess. It’s Jude. My roommate’s. I know you don’t know him, but he’s quite the ladies man.”
“I don’t see your roommate, I see you.”
“Yeah, because he’s shut up in his room nursing a hangover and a porn level of sex.”
His hand strikes out, slapping me.
The man hasn’t laid a hand on me in years, and in the span of less than five minutes he’s pushed, shoved, and slapped me. That’s how I know he’s beyond pissed and reaching a murderous level of rage.
He claims he’s angry because I’m not the perfect son, but we both know it’s a lie. Even if I did and said everything he wanted, walked the straight and narrow, he would still hurt me because while he’s already a rich powerful man, beating up his son makes him feel invincible.
“Do not put another fucking hand on me.”
His eyes flash, that same look I’ve seen over the years that says try me. It promises a world of hurt and pain.
Think of your inheritance. This man holds the purse strings.
I curse my grandpa for croaking on me. He wasn’t the best, but he was better than my old man.
“I warned you what would happen if you screwed up—”
“This isn’t my fucking screw up.” The urge to barrel down on him is strong, but I resist. Think of the money. Think of the freedom. “In fact,” I find myself saying, a complete lie rolling off my tongue effortlessly, “I have a girlfriend, and unlike you, I believe in being faithful when I make a commitment.”
“You don’t have a girlfriend.”
He’s right, but I’m not cowing to him.
“I do.”
“You never mentioned her the entire break.”
“Because the three of us discuss my personal life extensively.” Doubt fills his eyes and I capitalize on it. “It’s new,” I continue, rambling out my ass, “we’d only been together a month before break.”
His lips purse, disbelief in his eyes. “Prove it.”
“Huh?” I’m taken by surprise.
“Prove it,” he repeats. “Bring this girlfriend to dinner with your mom and I at the estate next weekend.”
“I can do that.”
“If you’re being honest with me, I’ll forget … this.” He wrinkles his nose like he smells something sour, flicking his fingers at the naked girls.
“Erase it from your memory, because she’s real.”
“Mhmm,” he hums doubtfully. “I’ll see you next Saturday at seven PM.”
He straightens his shirt, smoothing it free of wrinkles that aren’t even there.
No other words are exchanged between us as he walks out the door. It clicks shut softly behind him. My dad might throw punches, but he’s not the slamming doors type.
One of the girls lifts her head up, blinking open sleepy eyes. She’s completely oblivious to her nakedness when she notices me in the kitchen.
“Did someone slam the door?”
I throw my hands up. It’s not even noon and I’m done with this fucking day.
2
Vanessa
I got back to campus later than I wanted.
I certainly didn’t expect to be breezing in on Monday, the day classes start again, but when you’re doing what you can to hold the pieces of your family together when you’re home, you do what you have to do.
Swiping my ID to get into my dorm, a loud buzzing sounds and it flashes red.
“What?” I mutter to myself.
I swipe it again and stare at my card.
“You have to be kidding me.”
I’m tired from the all-night drive and wanted to shower and catch maybe two hours of sleep before my first class.
That won’t be happening now.
Grumbling all the way to the opposite end of campus where the administration building is, I earn more than a few strange looks from my fellow students. I don’t give a shit. I’m cranky and my pits stink and I’m also hangry. It’s a lethal combination.
I storm into the building, reminding myself it’s not the secretary’s fault and I can’t take my anger out on the poor unsuspecting soul. It’s a glitch in the system more than likely, but I need my ID working so I can not only get into the dorm but grab a bite to eat.