Letters To The Moon

020 | Adrenaline

Quack. Quack. Quack.

Holy fuck, the boy was quacking.

He was fucking quacking. Okay, his phone was quaking. Dakota cursed and fished out the phone, the light making him squint and furrow his brows. Wether it was on purpose or not, he gave me full view of the screen, which I was going to view as a step forward. It made me feel like he trusted me on some level, at least.

"She's back?" I frowned, grabbing ahold of the phone and slightly cringing as I remembered just how annoying that was.

Also, what language is that?

Dakota looked frantic and fearful—like a million thoughts were running through his head all at once and he was being told his dog died at the same time.

"My mom, I-" he scrambled up, grabbing the phone back and shoving it back into his pocket.

"The lady you were yelling at a couple of weeks ago?" He ran a hand through his hair.

"I have to go."

"Wait!" I grabbed onto his leg, anchoring him to the ground.

"What?"

"Meet me back here tomorrow. Eight o'clock."

"I—" I blinked and squeezed his ankle, the tactic I frequently used to get the attention of my two brothers when they were "play-wrestling" each other.

"—just do it dude, alright?"

I let go as soon as I got confirmation and he took off down the hill. Then I remembered he was new to the area and running through the dark.

"Do you know the way back?" I yelled. I got an unsure "I'll figure it out."

Males.

I sighed, picking myself up and gathering the outdated bug spray Dakota forgot.

Good, gives me something to chuck at him later for leaving. Take that, sucker.

I quickly made it back home and shut the door. Immediately, empty bottles came into my view.

"Rhea?" Dad called groggily, from in front of the tv. He'd been doing that a lot recently. And by that I meant drinking to forget and watching tv to distract.

Mom's birthday had passed a few weeks ago.

"Yes Dad?" I answered hesitantly and unnerved. When he was like this, he usually never acknowledged anyone. It was his way to avoid acting on drunk anger. He'd learned.

He grabbed my arm and looked up at me, his eyes startlingly sharp, like the predator about to pounce on the prey. I felt a strong strain of fear prick down my skin, sending my adrenaline rushing.

"I need you to work more shifts. Jay and Sean are overloaded."

He belched and laughed at nothing while I breathed through my mouth, trying to look relatively calm when I really felt like a terrified salmon caught in a bear's jaw.

"Would you look at that?" He said more to the ceiling than to me. "Like a goddamn angel answered my prayers, business is actually going back to normal." He shook his head before whipping his gaze back to me, waiting for the response we both knew I'd give. The bear inched it's teeth down, fingers clamping down tighter around my bones.

"S-sure. No problem." Damnit. So fucking weak.

Satisfied, the bear released its vice grip and I took a subconscious step back. If the bear noticed, he didn't say anything.

"Good girl. You know Rhea," He drawled, waving a finger around and around. "That's what I love about you. So accountable. So dependent."

    That's what you love about me?

I bit down the anger before it could even rise.

"That's me." I chuckled nervously, reaching over to pick up the empty beers and throwing them away, knowing he'd say something about them sooner or later and that that would turn into a full on 'Rhea Rant' about my inadequacies.

"Well, I'm gonna go to bed early. Good night...Dad."

I heard a grunt come from his direction as I made my way to my bedroom door. Slipping inside, I shut it as quickly and quietly as possible, making sure it closed before I let my carefully-crafted mask dissipate. Gasping, my back slid down its surface and I let the bottled-up, sheer terror expel from my body. Since then, every time I encountered him like this felt like I was living my worst nightmare.

One where I met a similar fate as Mom. I chastised myself.

No, Dad wouldn't. I know he wouldn't.

I hugged myself close, trying to make my breathing controlled and methodical. I couldn't be too loud.

"Mom," I whispered, pathetically in my own weakness. 

"Mom I need you."

***

Dun...dun...duuuh. Thanks for the read guys!