Before I Go

Chapter 15- Getting Caught

The door creaks slightly as I slowly push it open, and I cringe; I had been hoping to enter the house and sneak up to my bedroom without being caught. The lights are off throughout the entirety of the house, and the only sound that can be heard is the radio my dad plays softly as he falls asleep. I step into the house as silently as possible, closing the door behind me. I'm caught entirely off guard at the sound of my mother clearing her throat behind me. Slowly, I turn around, searching for her in the darkness.

"Morgan," she says, obviously displeased with me. I remain quiet, unsure what to say, while at the same time waiting for the lecture I'm likely to receive for sneaking out. When my mom doesn't say anything else, I begin to feel even more nervous, anxiety itching at my skin in the most uncomfortable way. Honestly, I think getting yelled at would be far more comfortable than whatever this is.

"Mom?" I ask, my voice barely coming out, even with an insane amount of effort. "I-I'm sorry," I whisper, practically pleading with her to say something. Literally anything at this moment.

My mom sighs deeply, the two of us staring in each other's general direction in the darkness for several moments that feel almost like an eternity. "Just go to bed, Morgan," she finally says, her voice quiet and her tone displaying her obvious tiredness. I can't help but mentally question whether she's physically sleepy because of the late time or if she's just exhausted because of my careless and apparently disrespectful behavior. "Before your father wakes up."

The urge to apologize profusely claws at my throat, and my feet seem to be glued to the floor. I can tell my mom is disappointed in me, and I want nothing more at this moment than to make it better. At the same time, I know that she's right; I really should get to my bedroom before my dad figures out what's going on. I whisper another apology as I walk past my mother, using the light from my phone to guide my way to my room. I'm relieved when the stairs don't creak under my weight, and the sound of Dad's radio can still be heard from my parents' bedroom. As quietly as I can, I slip into my pajamas and get into bed, hoping that trouble won't be awaiting me in the morning.

I wake up to the sound of my parents arguing, and dread immediately fills my stomach. Although I can't hear the words they're saying to each other, I know that my mom and dad are arguing about me. About what happened last night. I spend a few minutes pacing back and forth in my room, convincing myself everything will be okay when I go downstairs. I tell myself that nothing terrible will happen when I'm confronted by my dad with my poor decisions. While I'm not fully able to believe that the world isn't about to abruptly end as soon as I step foot into the kitchen, I make my way down there, anyway.

"Morgan," my dad says, his voice terrifyingly stern. I flinch at the sound; it's almost as if the words themselves are whips that have suddenly lashed me. "Care to tell me what the hell happened last night?"

Hesitantly, I raise my gaze to look at him, studying his features for a second. His anger is evident; I can practically see it coming off him in waves. My dad's eyebrows are furrowed, and his lips are stretched into a tight, thin line as he looks at me expectantly. I want to look to my mom for reassurance, but I don't. I don't really want to drag her further into my mess. With a deep breath, I admit, "I snuck out of the house and went to a party."

My dad remains silent, absorbing the words I've said as if he's inspecting them for faults. I can clearly see the wheels turning in his head as he decides what kind of punishment is the most acceptable for the crime I've committed. I wait anxiously, fidgeting with my fingers as I try to contain the tears that are already filling my eyes. Before I know it, my dad's voice booms throughout the room, loud enough to shake the china in the cabinet.

I sink into myself, dissolving into a fit of tears that I have absolutely no control over. My chest heaves as I sob, and I choke on my cries as I desperately try to quiet them. My mind clouds over as my dad continues to yell, his face scrunching further in anger as he speaks. I do my best to block it all out, to focus only on breathing, on being silent. I know that the more I react, the longer this will last, and I need it to end as quickly as possible.

"Get out of my sight!" my dad yells, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly in his rage.

Taking the cue, I swiftly exit the kitchen, stumbling over myself in my mad dash to get back to my room. As the door shuts behind me, I collapse to the carpeted floor, finally allowing myself to melt into the hysterical mess I'd become. I lay there, dampening the floor with my tears until there are no more left within me. My mind whirls, overthinking the entire situation and wishing there was absolutely anything I could do to change what just happened. To change myself, to make sure that I never have to live through something like that again.

What is wrong with me?

And the worst part about all of this is... I don't even know if it was worth it. The party was a bust, save for a few moments I spent with Parker and Ashton.

When I finally muster up a bit of strength, I drag myself back into bed. Burying myself deep within the covers, I close my eyes and force myself back to sleep, praying that these feelings will go away soon.