“Shocker,” I muttered, softly enough that he didn’t hear me.
“I came here because I am worried that this town is getting to the point of collapse,” he said. “Our rivals, the Reapers, are becoming more and more violent by the day, and I fully anticipate that they may strike here.”
“At the house,” I said, less of a question and more of a call-out. I didn’t follow club politics or battles closely, but I knew attacking people at their houses almost never, ever happened. Someone had told me my father had done it once, but it had failed to work as he had hoped.
“Yes.”
My father smiled, more of a cackle than a loving smile.
“The Reapers are just awful, just terrible,” he said. “They are rapists. They are murderers. They are criminals of the highest order. If they get their hands on you, my sweet Lilly, they will do unspeakably terrible things to you. Things I don’t even want to think about.”
“I know.”
But I really didn’t, actually.
For much of my life, I’d believed my father. I had believed every word he said and had seen him as nothing less than the perfect man. He could do no wrong in my eyes.
But when I turned eighteen and tried to leave the house and go to college, he refused. His grip on me tightened. And what had started as just good, if a bit too good, parenting had quickly become the grip of a father who could not let go. And as a result, I was no longer sure if my father was telling the truth or just telling his truth so that I wouldn’t leave him.
“With this new development in the Reapers’ attacks,” he said, “Lilly, I have had to make a difficult choice. I can’t have you staying here.”
“So… you’re telling me I can move to New York?” I said, not even caring that this might make my father upset.
“Huh? No, dear child, I can’t have you out there on your own. I need to make sure you’re fine! No, I have bought a house in the rural parts of Oregon you can go to. No one but me and my Sergeant-at-Arms will know where you are.”
I felt my head lighten and my chest squeeze. My fingers curled. I could leave... but only to where my father sent me... to someplace even more remote and isolated than Springsville... where I’d likely have no freedom... no social life... nothing…
“Lilly?”
“Dad,” I said, my voice trembling. “Please, just listen to me. Can you let me speak?”
My father folded his arms and snorted. I guessed he was giving me this chance, if not embracing it.
“Oregon is not going to do anything for me,” I said. “I know that you want what’s best for me, and I know you care about me, and I love you for that.”
That’s more of a stretch than I care to admit.
“But I am an adult, and I know what’s best for me now. I—”
“You may be an adult, but you have no idea what lies in wait for you outside,” my father interrupted. “In the woods of Oregon, they will not know where to find you. In a big city like New York? You’ll be found before you even know they are following you.”
“Dad!” I said, but I knew I would not win this discussion by yelling. I took a breath and lowered my voice. “I understand, but I’ve learned from you. I can escape. Yes, they are bigger than me, but I can blend—”
“I did not raise you to be an insolent child,” he said. “You are going to Oregon, and that’s final.”
I could take a lot of things from my father, especially since, for better or for worse, I was so used to it. I could understand a lot of what he did came not from anger or hatred, but from sincerely wanting the best for me.
But at my age, I could not handle being talked to like an eight-year-old. Especially when I had already tried to be nice. I couldn’t fucking take it anymore.
I fucking snapped.
“I fucking hate you!” I roared. “You can’t let me out by myself for one fucking day? You can’t just let me live my own life? I’m in my twenties and I don’t even know how to pay my own banking bill because you’ve sheltered me so much! And now you’re telling me I have to go and live where you want me to under your supervision? Fuck that. No. No!”
I didn’t even care how bratty I sounded. I had no fucking choice!
“I am not going to Oregon, and I do not care what you say or what you threaten me with,” I said. “I have told you for years now how it’s my dream to go to New York and be an actress. At the very least, I would love to go to Los Angeles and try some things there. And now you’re telling me I’m going to Oregon? No way.”
As I spoke, I could see my father’s face getting redder by the second. I knew something was coming, and it wasn’t going to be anything I could handle calmly. I just hoped it didn’t involve violence.
