saf's pov
'Im home!' I yelled, tugging the ear bud out of my ear. I traced my fingers where Ethan's touch still lingered, smiling to myself whilst grabbing a bowl and the box of cereal. The satisfying sound of the little charms tapping against the porcelain, as i tipped the box, muted the noise my little brother made as he entered the kitchen.
'Saf,' he exclaimed, giving me a toothy grin.
'Wook, i wost a toof the odder day!' He pointed a short stout finger at a new gap in the side of his teeth.
'What a big boy,' i lifted him off the ground into a large embrace. 'I really love you you know?' I murmured, nuzzling my nose into his podgy cheek. He giggled and wrapped his short arms around my neck, hugging me tightly.
'I wuv you more safron,' he poked my nose. Then he began squirming, reaching to the floorboards. I jumped, roughly thrusting him off of me at the sound of the front door slamming.
My mother came storming in, chucking her bag onto a stool. Her hair, which was slowly beginning to grey, lay messily around her flushed face, her forehead still unbearably knotted as she paced back and forth between the cupboards. The stress was evident in her, from the way her hands were still shaking violently, to the way her skirt hung crumpled off her weak legs. After downing a cappuccino in one gulp, she hurried up the stairs and one was able to hear her pull up a chair in the study.
I glanced over at Jasper, completely unaware of our mothers unhealthy state, colouring in a cartoon drawing of a lion. I sighed and sat myself onto the old sofa, letting my back sink into the pillows, whipping on the telly and grabbing my phone.
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I was watching the third episode of spongebob when i heard the doorbell ring. Knowing my mother was busy scribbling away, i heaved myself out of my comfortable position to drag myself to the door. I stood in front of the old oak door and straightened out my top, combing my messy hair behind my ears. Then i swung open the heavy door.
'Saffy!'
I stared straight at the man stood in front of me. He had bleached his natural black hair an unnatural blonde and was smothered in fake tan the same colour as peanut butter. He was wearing an expensive branded polo shirt with a large smile showing off his perfectly glistening teeth. His hair was gelled into an uncomfortable quiff and even with the amount of cosmetic help he'd had, they were not able to remove the wrinkles littered on his forehead.
I felt a sudden anger bubble inside of me as i saw the man i once called my father, turn up after 6 years of no contact what-so-ever.
My first instinct was to slam the door on his cheese puff looking head. However he must of seen that as he stepped forward into the hallway.
He awkwardly tapped my shoulder stifly and i flinched, making him step away from me again.
Suddenly there was a loud crash coming from the kitchen and before i was able to fully react, my mother came rushing down the stairs and, without taking one glance at her ex-husband or me, dashed to the other room.
An ear piercing slap sound came crashing through the walls followed by a even louder silence.
My father looked at me, anger, shock and even a little hint of excitement spreading across his face. Then he rushed to the kitchen leaving me stranded there like a lost puppy.
