I pull in a deep breath, close my eyes, and let it out slowly.
This is all going to be fine.
I move down the hallway and up the stairs to my old bedroom. At least I’ll have privacy. The only other rooms up here are a bathroom and a spare bedroom that’s crammed with boxes stuffed with Mom’s things. The bathroom is musty with a ring in the toilet from the water and dead bugs in the tub. It will need a deep clean. There’s no shower curtain or toilet paper, but I can get those things. I have a little bit of money left from my last check. My room is covered in a thick layer of dust with cobwebs in the corners, so it’ll need a good cleaning, too.
The bed squeaks as I sit on the edge, folding my hands together and looking around. A million horrid memories assault me, and I have to push them away before I throw up.
I’ll get used to being here. It won’t be as bad as it was before. I’m older now. I’m aware and have accepted that my father has issues; all I have to do is ignore them. Play nice. Just long enough until I can find somewhere else to go. A few months, maybe? If I can’t find a place alone, I could look for a roommate. Or just a boarding place with a room, maybe.
Getting up, I go to my closet, hoping I left something that I can throw on, so I don’t freeze my butt off while bringing my things in. The only thing inside is a spider that skitters away when it sees me. Great. Even the spiders can’t stand me.
I blow out a heavy breath, then head downstairs and turn right into the kitchen. Dad is sitting at the table, his back to me, staring up at the TV mounted on the wall. That TV was put there for Mom because she spent so much time cooking and loved watching TV while she did it. That’s why Dad onlywatches TV in here, but he won’t say it. He doesn’t say much of anything that isn’t an insult or a complaint.
I walk in when a commercial comes on. “Dad, do you have a jacket I can use for a few minutes?”
He turns to face me, his expression almost like he forgot I was here. Then he scowls.
“Where’s yours?”
“I packed it.” I gesture to the car.
“Well, that was stupid, wasn’t it?”
I blink, holding my breath and his hard gaze. I nod once.
“It’s in the closet by the door,” he says. “Just don’t get it dirty, for Christ’s sake.”
Blinking away tears, I go to the closet to get his jacket that smells like it hasn’t been washed in years, put it on, and go outside.
Even knowing what he’s like doesn’t take the sting away from his words. He never used to be this way, and that’s what makes it hurt so much. When Mom was alive, he was the best dad ever. But he blames her death on me, and so… now he hates me. I blamed myself for her death for a long time too. Some days I still do. He acts like I didn’t love her, and I didn’t lose her too. While I was here with my father, I didn’t deal with her death properly. But to keep myself sane, after moving in with Harrison, I did a ton of research on mental health and most days I know my mother killing herself had nothing to do with me and everything to do with her inner demons. Yes, I saw signs and should have helped her, but I was just a kid. I didn’t know any better. But I do now.
I take everything from the car and put it on the porch, make sure my doors are locked, then bring everything inside. Once I’m done with that, I lock the door, put his jacket back—after inspecting it for dirt—and bring everything upstairs. Dad doesn’t say a word, which I consider a win.
My arms are sore by the time I’m done, and I plop onto the bed, sneezing when a cloud of dust poofs up around me. I groan, knowing I’ll need to change these sheets, but I’m not sure I have extras here and I won’t ask Dad for that. It’s early enough to go to the store, but if I want to get things I need, I’ll have to go through my stuff first to see what I forgot.
This sucks.
Everything about this sucks. If I had somewhere safe and comfortable to go, I could deal with this Harrison mess in a healthy way. Being back here? It’s not going to be good.
All I can do is make the best out of it. There’s nothing else I can do but move forward. I mean, there are other options I’d considered, like getting even. I can’t begin to figure out how I would do that, though. I’m not a spiteful person or someone who plots revenge, but with the way I’m feeling? The thought of it is tempting. Hurting Harrison seems like it would be a balm for my aching soul.
I push myself up and start unpacking my things before I don’t do it at all. Wallowing isn’t going to fix my problems.
An hour later, I’ve got a long list of what I need, because even though it looked like I grabbed all my stuff, it seems I forgot a lot of important things. Like my toothbrush, shampoo, and deodorant. Along with like a hundred other things. My stomach growls just as I leave my room. I know better than to assume there is food here for me to eat. Everything in this house belongs to him. I’m an unwanted guest, one who is responsible for his wife’s death. I’ll get food while I’m out too.
Dad is still in the kitchen, sitting at the table in the same spot as before, staring at the TV. I mull over telling him I’m leaving, unsure if it’s something that’ll anger him or if it’s something he’ll just brush off. You never know how it’ll go with him. It’s the toss of a coin, and so I mentally do that in my head, gritting my teeth when it lands on tails. Tails always means take the risk.
“Dad? I’m going to the store to get some things. Do you need anything?”
He looks up at me, that same scowl on his face. I hold his gaze, trying not to look as fearful as I feel. He’s looking at me like I’m an alien and not his daughter. I’ve had enemies give me nicer looks.
“No, but if you’re not home by eight, don’t bother coming to the door. It’ll be locked.”
I try my best to hide my shock, even though I shouldn’t be shocked by that statement. Ridiculous rules are a thing with him, and not because he cares about keeping me safe or in line, but because he’s miserable and wants everyone else to be miserable too. It’s sad, but I gave up trying to help him a longtime ago. I no longer have the energy to help this man, and honestly, I’m not sure anyone can at this point.
“Oh, yeah. Of course. I’ll be here by then. Just getting a few things that I forgot at—”
“I don’t fucking care, Seraphine. Just be back in time or sleep on the fucking porch.” He scoffs, then turns back to face the TV.
