Olive's P.O.V.
I had just slipped my shirt on when I heard a knock at the door. I ran downstairs with a smile.
"Did you forget something?" I opened the door expecting Lucas, since he had just left.
My smile quickly faded as my mind registered Dad's scruff face before me. His beard had grown, but his hair was kept in it's usual gelled to the side state. He had come unannounced, somehow finding where I was. Did he know of this place beforehand? I swallowed hard, knowing dad is here to lecture me. My stomach curdled with nerves.
"Are you going to let me in, or do you want to have this conversation in the hall?" He asked with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. He had that serious tone in his voice, one I'd grown used to, but still sent a chill running through my body.
He wasn't just mad, he was furious, evident by the tic in his powerful jaw. I stepped to the side, allowing him to enter even though I wanted to deny him access. I felt like I was betraying mom in some way by allowing him inside. This was her sanctuary from this very man.
"Why have you been ignoring me? You didn't even bother to tell me your mother died or when her funeral was. I would have liked to pay my respects." Dad started right off the bat, not wasting a second.
"No, you don't get to come to this place and talk about her. You're the reason she left. You're the reason I didn't have her growing up. Of course, I didn't tell you. You didn't have the right to know." Overwhelmed and furious by his words, my mouth moved before I could fully think about it. Never in my life had I talked back to my father.
"What did you just say?!" He raised his voice, making me involuntarily flinch. "You don't get to tell me my rights. She abandoned you, that wasn't my fault. That was her choice."
"She left because of you! So yes, it is your fault." Even if he refused to believe it, it's his fault that mom left me behind too.
"I stepped up when your mother left, Livy. I was the only parent you had. I took care of you, and this is how you treat me?" He was yelling now, bubbling my trauma ten fold. My body felt on edge, ready to jump at the slightest movement.
"You didn't take care of anyone! You drank yourself stupid almost every night. I'd come home and find you passed out with a bottle in your hand. I had to keep the house clean and cook if I ever wanted anything to eat. Between the two of us I was the parent. Don't come here acting like you did me any favors. The only thing I learned from you was how to defend myself and throw a decent punch." I was surprised by the calmness in which I was able to speak these words. My anger was through the roof, but I tried not to show it. I didn't yell at him like I wanted to, not even raising my voice the slightest. My tone did not betray me as it stayed strong and calm despite my nerves.
"Livy, that's not fair. My wife had left me without a word, and a young girl to take care of. You. It was an impossible task." He argued back.
I could see the anger boiling in him. His hands were fisted by his side, causing my heart to race. Would he hit me if provoked? He's the one person I can't fight back. My hands began to clam up as adrenaline coursed through me.
"Whose fault is that?" I rolled my eyes.
Next thing I knew my cheek burned, stinging from the pain of his slap. The force was so great it caused my head to swivel. Tears stung my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. I turned to look at him, not touching my cheek, even though I desperately wanted to ease it's burning with my cool hand.
"Get out!" I yelled at him, pointing to my front door.
"Livy, I didn't mean to. I am so sorry." He shook his head almost in shock.
It was like he was surprised he had done it. His poster changed completely along with his tone. All the anger had left him replaced by deep remorse. It didn't matter, the action was done. He had hit me, and there was no taking it back. I'd taken a blow from him many times, but it was never out of anger. It was always when he was teaching me, trying to help me improve. He'd never hit me in the face before, and definitely never out of spite or frustration.
"Get out, dad," I said again, keeping my voice leveled. "I don't want to see you again."
"Livy, don't be like that. Please. I didn't mean to." He kept shaking his head, as if he could just shake away the fact he'd slapped me so hard across the face.
I could feel my cheek start to swell. The taste of iron was strong in my mouth, letting me know I'd bit my cheek hard enough to draw blood. I stared into his familiar eyes, noting the wrinkles that now creased at his sides. His eyes were my own, the same icy blue that stare back at me in the mirror.
"Just go."
Dad was slowly backing away to the door. His eyes kept staring at my cheek, filled with regrets. It didn't matter to me, he would look the same way anytime he would hurt mom. It didn't matter how remorseful he would feel after hitting her, he never stopped. He'd apologize, and be sweet for a few days, but then the cycle would repeat. I won't be part of that.
"I'm staying at the motel down the street. I won't leave until I see you again," he let me know as he hung by the door.
With one last sorrowful look at me, he left, closing the door behind him, leaving me in a deafening silence. I let my tears fall, carefully wiping them away, feeling my cheek sting even at the gentle touch of my own fingers. I found a bag of frozen vegetables and placed it carefully on my cheek, wincing as it made contact. My tears didn't stop, either. It was like I had opened a dam, and I couldn't close it back up until it ran its course.
The knock on the door reminded me that Lucas was supposed to return. I didn't want him to see me like this. I didn't want him to worry. I also wasn't sure what exactly he'd say or do. I am not sure what I need right now. My heart doesn't even know if it wants to be angry, or wallow in the sadness longer. I thought of just sending Lucas away without even opening the door, but that didn't seem right. After everything Lucas has shared with me, how can I keep him out? I opened the door, standing behind it, trying to hide a little longer. Lucas sweet cologne filled my lungs as he entered the flat.
My body kept facing the door as I closed it, avoiding looking at Lucas. If I looked at him, then he could look at me, he could see my wounded cheek. I hadn't even checked it in a mirror yet, but I know it's bad. Lucas wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, leaning down and resting his chin on my shoulder. I turned my head away from him, still trying to hide what I know he will inevitably see.
"What's the matter, Rose? Did I take too long?" He asked me, kissing the nape of my neck over my collar bone. I shook my head no, worried my voice would sound too weak. He continued to kiss my neck, moving my hair away gently with his fingers. I flinched when his fingers accidentally grazed against my cheek.
Shit.
Lucas stiffened, pulling away and turning me to face him. He pushed my hair out of my face, lifting my chin with his fingers. He examined me carefully. His intense eyes were boring holes into me like the sun's rays through a magnifying glass.
"What happened to your face?" Lucas sounded furious as he saw my cheek for the first time.
How do I explain this one.