Chapter 36 Thirty six
Chapter 36 Thirty six
Zara
"Where did you get that?" My voice came out cracked, barely a whisper, but in the silence of the office it sounded loud enough to shake the walls.
My father folded the paper and tucked it back into his drawer like it was evidence he was saving for later. "It does not matter where I got it. What matters is whether it is true."
"It matters to me." I stepped forward, my legs shaking badly, my whole body vibrating with adrenaline and fear something close to rage. "Someone sent you a letter calling me a slut Dad, and you slapped me before you even told me what it said. You hit me. You have never hit me before in my entire life, yet you hit me because of an anonymous letter from someone who does not have the courage to say whatever they want to say to my face."
His jaw tightened, and for a moment I thought he might hit me again, but he just stood there behind his desk with his hands flat on the surface, his knuckles were odly white and his eyes fixed on me that gaze made my skin crawl.
"I asked you a question," he said slowly, like he was talking to a child who had misbehaved and needed to be brought back in line. "Is it true? Are you sleeping around, Zara? Are you out there embarrassing this family, embarrassing me, with the kind of behavior that makes people send letters like that to my house?"
"I am not sleeping around." The words came out before I could stop them, and I do not deserve to be called names or accused of things just because someone with a grudge decided to mail you an anonymous letter." I have just been with one person, not this false accusations of sleeping around."
He laughed and shook his head slowly like I had just confirmed something he had suspected all along. "One person. So there is someone. You are sleeping with someone, and you have been lying to me about it, hiding it from me, sneaking around behind my back like a teenager instead of having the respect to tell me the truth."
"Respect?" I choked on the word, because the irony was so sharp it hurt. "You want me to talk about respect? You just hit me, Dad. You slapped your own daughter across the face because she raised her voice at you and now you want to talk about respect?"
"Do not push me, Zara."
"Or what? You will hit me again?" I was crying now, ugly sobs that made my chest heave and my whole body shake with the force of them. "Go ahead. Hit me again. See if it makes you feel better. See if it changes the fact that someone out there hates me enough to send you something like that and you decided to believe them instead of me without even asking."
My father came around the desk again, I jumped, I could not help it, my body remembered the sting of his palm and the shock of his violence He saw how I reacted, and something moved across his face, something that might have been guilt or disgust, I couldn't tell.
"Who is he?" he asked, stopping a few feet away from me, close enough that I could still smell the whiskey on his breath but not close enough that I felt trapped. "The person you are sleeping with. Who is he? Is he a student? Someone from your class? Someone I should know about?"
I thought about lying, making up a name, a face, a story that would satisfy him without revealing the truth, but I was so tired, so fucking tired of lying and pretending, my cheek was still burning and my heart was still racing. I just wanted this night to be over.
"His name is Darren," I said, it was not a lie, just a half-truth, a name without a context. "He is older. He is not a student and he treats me better than you have treated me in years, so do not stand there and pretend like you care about my well-being when you just proved that you do not."
My father's eyes narrowed, I could see him trying to place the name, trying to figure out if he knew this Darren person. "Darren. Darren who?"
"I am not telling you his last name. Not after you have already decided that I am a slut without any evidence except an anonymous letter from a coward."
"Watch your..."
"Do not tell me to watch my tone." I stepped back, putting distance between us, reaching behind me for the door handle. "I am going back to my apartment, and I am going to sleep, tomorrow I am going to figure out who sent you that letter and why, because someone out there is trying to destroy me, and you are helping them by believing the worst without asking me a single question first."
"You are not going anywhere until you tell me the truth."
"I just told you the truth."
My father stared at me for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, I could see him fighting with himself, trying to decide whether to let me go or lock me in this room until I gave him the answers he wanted.
"Fine," he said finally, the word coming out like a defeat. "Go. But this is not over, Zara. I will find out who this Darren is and what you have been hiding from me and when I do, there will be consequences."
"There are always consequences with you," I said, and opened the door and walked out before he could respond.
I walked down the hallway on shaky legs, my hand still pressed against my cheek, tears still falling, I did not look back, could not look back, because I was afraid of what I would see if I did.