My brothers both frown at just the thought of Levi.
“I don’t understand why he has to be involved in our concerts,” Leonidas growls, his voice thick with bitterness.
“If Levi doesn’t show up to support his girlfriend at the first concert she’s doing since they announced they’re dating, don’t you think that would cause suspicion?” Justin muses. He mocks Leonidas when he tilts his head while raising his eyebrows in question.
“I think being attached at the hip will cause more suspicion. Isn’t that weird? All of a sudden, they announce their relationship, and now, they’re so in love. Why weren’t they so in love in public before?”
“I suggest you shut the hell up and stop running your mouth,” Dad’s voice barks from where he’s been sitting quietly for two hours.
He’s like our unwanted babysitter. He’s always waiting for a chance to verbally discipline us when we use our voices. We’re so sick of it.
Leonidas has a stare-off with our father before looking away and glaring at the table like he wants to break it in half. After our dad changed and became the monster he is today, we learned to never talk back to him. We’re safe here in the studio, but it’s a different story when we’re home alone with him.
He has all the power.
Something we’ve been discussing is moving out of the house. I want my own place. Somewhere I don’t have to make sure I lock my door so my unwanted dad doesn’t wander in. Where I can be myself and feel safe. But the thought of leaving Mom alone with him doesn’t sit well with me. So, I’m staying put until our problems are resolved.
“All right, our meeting is over. If you have any questions, you know my email. Have a blessed day, everyone!” Justin gathers his stuff off the table before stalking out of the room.
A herd of our team rushes out behind him, leaving us alone with Dad.
My brothers and I make a move to stand up, but our dad’s rough voice grits out, stopping us in our tracks, “Did I say you could leave? Sit back down.”
Sitting, I refuse to make eye contact with him, in fear he’ll see my dread.
“Eyes on me. You’re not children anymore. Did your mother not teach you proper communication skills?”
Our mother taught us how to survive. She put us in self-defense lessons in case we ever encountered danger. But I never thought I would rethink every move I was taught just in case my dad got super angry one day. Mom shows me every day that she’s trying her best. He never does. That speaks volumes.
When I meet his evil gaze, my fingers move sneakily under the table. Hitting the record button on my phone, just in case this can be used for evidence, I pray my face stays neutral.
“Throughout your entire childhood, I taught you all one thing I hoped you would remember forever.” He leans back in his chair and folds his hands on his stomach. “But it seems like you need a reminder because you’ve been slacking lately. Especially you.” He directs that last part at me.
Me?
Why is everything my fault?
Why will I never be good enough?
“What makes you say that?” Elijah asks our dad while his fingers grip mine in a supportive way under the table. “She’s been working her ass off lately. The rise in our income is because of her.”
“She knows how much our numbers have gone up since we announced her fake relationship. How come she isn’t putting out content every day?” He laughs, glaring at me. “She’s lazy—that’s why. She doesn’t give a shit about anything but herself. And you know what? That includes you too, boys. She doesn’t care about you guys.”
How is this man my father? Nothing anyone has ever said about me has ever been this false. I woulddiefor my brothers. They are my entire world. I didn’t need friends growing up because they were my built-in best friends. Most days, I love them more than I love myself.
“Did that feel good?” Leonidas sneers back at our dad. “Hurting your own daughter like that? What the hell do you even get from talking the way you do?”
“She’s no daughter of mine. She’s just my source of income.”
My world stops.
I don’t mean to gasp out loud, but it slips out. My palms turn sweaty, and I feel my body grow rigid. Like someone just shot me in the chest. My dad might as well be holding a gun because I truly believe a wound wouldn’t hurt more than what I’m feeling right now.
I shake my head in denial as a single tear falls down my face. I blink over at my emotionless dad before looking at my brothers for some support.
I try to see around the tears in my eyes, and I just find my so-called father watching me bleed out while my chest pounds so, so bad. With trembling hands, I turn off my recording, deciding that’s enough evidence for a lifetime. Not able to hear anything because I feel like I’m underwater, I rise from my seat on wobbly legs and rush out of the room. No longer able to stay in his presence.
My chest feels like it’s closing in, strangling me to death as his angry statement repeats over and over again in my head until I feel like I’m drowning.
