Chapter 22: Chapter twenty two

Arielle

The scene before me was too familiar, yet not. My father had been summoned into this same office many times in the past over the troubles I'd gotten into.

The only difference then was that I did those things to get his attention. I actually wanted him here. But now, all I wanted to do was smash his head against a wall.

“Ms Arielle, your father is here to see you.” Principal Givens voice interrupted my murderous thoughts.

I didn't reply him, didn't even look at him. I kept my gaze trained on the asshole before me.

I ignored that tinge of fear inside me that seem to remember how cruel he can be and focused on the burning rage instead. Red clouded my vision as I saw the image of my mother knelt on the floor surrounded by pieces of glasses he'd broken.

The man sent me to the hospital after hurting my mother and still had the nerve to show up at my school like nothing happened. He almost cracked my skull open. I glared at him, seething with rage.

He must have seen the anger in my eyes judging my his wide grin. There was no traces of the man who had slammed my head against a wall, knocking me unconscious barely three days ago.

Sitting in front of me was the Charles McAlister everyone knew and loved. If only they knew what he was like behind closed doors.

My father's eyes darted behind me and narrowed. I had forgotten that Daniel came with me. I glanced back and saw a puzzled look on my best friend's face. He threw me a glance that seem to say, “is everything okay?”

I wanted to yell at him that nothing was okay. This man tried to kill me.

Okay, maybe that was exaggerating, but I really could have died. People die all the time from head injuries.

But I refrained from saying that. I opened my mouth to assure him I was fine when the clearing of throat filled the silence.

I snapped my head towards the sound to see my father with his charming smile on. It was his secret weapon. No one could resist that cocky smile.

“Principal Givens, do you mind giving me some time alone with my daughter? I'd like to speak with her.” He purred.

Principal Givens’ answering smile was proof enough that the smile worked.

“Sure, Mr McAlister. I'll be in the hall.” The principal said and rose from his seat. He gestured to Dan to step outside.

Daniel didn't seem convinced with my father's act, but he didn't question our principal. He's too much of a rule follower to do that. He simply gave me a nod and a look that said, ‘be careful’, before walking out of the office.

“Hello, princess.” He said when we were alone.

A lifetime ago, I loved when he called me that. It meant he was impressed by me. I yearned for his approval. But as soon as the words left his mouth, I completely lost it.

“Don't call me that!” I snarled. “I'm not your princess. I stopped being your princess the moment you knocked me unconscious.”

I had no idea where I got the courage to speak to him in that manner, but after another trip to the hospital and the death scare, I couldn't care less what he does to me.

“I apologize for what happened to you.” He sighed. He didn't look the least apologetic.

“Although, that wouldn't have happened if you'd only listened and went back to your room like I asked you.” His eyes flickered with rage, a hint of the cruel man lurking behind that perfect mask he dawned.

But even that didn't affect me like it used to. It didn't make me cower or prompt me to hide away from him. I was too angry to care. I wanted to let out all the frustration I'd felt for the 17 years I stayed with him. The emotional abuse and deprivation I'd suffered for 17 years. I'd had enough.

“You were hurting my mother!” I screamed at him. I didn't care about how loud my voice was or if the office was soundproofed.

“You made her suffer so much till she bled. And you just expect me to turn a blind eye to it?”

“Yes!” He said firmly, his jaws tightening. “That's exactly what you should do because it doesn't concern you.”

“But it does!” I yelled. “Everything you do concerns me. I've watched you guys fight my entire life. I've watched you hit her while she tries to hide it. I've seen you lose your temper more than I've seen you keep calm. Do you know how difficult that is?”

My voice broke as I said the last words, tears streaking down my face. I didn't bother to wipe them.

“We've never been a real family. We've never had a real family dinner. All we ever do is pretend in front of the world to meet up this stupid illusion you've made of us. You don't care about your wife or your only daughter. You don't give a shit whether I live or die!”

There, that was it. The simple fact that I've refused to accept to myself my whole life. The fact I'd fought against and lost. The fact I'd hope wasn't true.

He didn't care about me at all. I've always been another means to perfect his public image.

“You know that's not true, you ungrateful child. I provided you with a comfortable life, sent you to an expensive school, how's that not caring about you?”

“You provided me with the basic needs of a human being, Dad, but when It really mattered, you weren't there.”

The tears increased, pooling out of my eyes in huge waves. My vision blurred and my heart shattered into a million pieces inside me.

“I thought I was going to die.” I choked out, my voice was so low I could barely hear it. But I was so tired, so exhausted with everything that I didn't have the strength to make my words audible.

And I was scared. Scared that the words in my nightmares would come to life if I spoke any louder. I was scared I'd find myself back in that hospital room in my chemo chair, wondering if the next breath would be my last.

“I was so scared after my diagnosis that I thought I was going to die. And I needed you. I needed you to just hold my hand and tell me it was going to be okay. I needed my father to sit by my bedside. I just… needed you…” I swallowed down, my face tightening as I forced the next words out, “...but you weren't there.”

I shuddered as those memories flooded my mind. The damn hospital room. The chemo chair. The stupid metal taste I feel when the nurses flush my port. The days I could hardly breath.

Then the cameras, the goddamned paparazzi, so much shutter sounds that sometimes I'd wish for death to come claim me. He had ignored my suffering and shoved the cameras in my face. It was always about public image to him.

My shoulders curved in and I shook with tears. The weight became to heavy on my legs but I didn't take a sit. I wanted him to see, needed him to understand exactly how I felt. I needed him to know what a monster he was.

But when I raised my head to look into his eyes, they were empty. No emotions shone in them. It's as if nothing I said affected him. He didn't so much as flinch or lower his head.

His jaws flexed once, twice, before he said, “tell your mother to quit her tantrum and come home before this week ends, or the consequences will be dire.”

Then he brushed past me, heading for the door. He didn't so much as glance at me. He twisted the door handle, opening the door slightly befire throwing me a glance.

“We'll discuss this later.” He simply said and walked out.

I sunk to the tiled floor and wept.