Dreamlike Nightmare

Absolutely Not

Haylee’s POV 

“No, No and did I mention hell no?” I screamed at my father. There was no way in hell I was showing around the new kid, especially a new football douche that my father feels the need to mentor. 

“Haylee! Language!” My father said trying to sound harsh at a reasonable volume. He lowered himself calmly back into his seat, “Fine, you don’t have to be his guide in school. I released a sigh of relief getting ready to walk out the door when he stopped me. 

“But him and his mother will be coming over for dinner. So, I expect you to be on your best behavior.” I turned back around calmly, so he could tell how mad I was. When I act out, I can be calmed but when I’m quiet you better take cover because that means one hell of a storm is coming. 

“No.” My fathers eyes widen a little bit. Most likely in response to my silent anger and my negative response. 

“No?” He raised an eyebrow curiously. 

“No, I won’t act like a doll. Used for effect and decoration while you ignore me as your daughter in order to try to find a boy that you think is worth parenting.” I saw my father’s eyes narrow as his breath got heavier. He took a step toward me and every fiber of my being wanted to take a step back to cower and hide from what I knew was coming next, but I refused to show him I was scared. So, I closed my eyes ready to absorb the blow. As if that was what he was waiting for a strong blow came down on my face. I fell to the ground knocking over a lamp as I fell. My cheek stung horribly from the slap, but I raised my head to look him in the eye. 

“You will be here tonight, you will dress well, you will be polite and respectful and you will act like we are the perfect family. If you don’t than you will be getting a lot more that a slap. Now get out of my sight and don’t talk to me like that again.” 

I quickly stood up and brushed myself off. I took my hair out of it’s ponytail in order to hide the red handprint that is no doubt already forming, and walked out of his office with my head held high, slamming the door behind me.  

A lot of people wonder I why I still provoke him if I know it will end in pain for myself. My answer is simple and always the same. I don’t love that man and I will never give him an ounce of respect. I won’t give him the satisfaction of breaking me, I won’t show him my weakness. I would rather burn in the fires of hell before bowing to that man and if that’s what it comes to than so be it. I look up and see a boy with sandy blond hair staring at me with l**t in his eyes. I hate him already and if my memory serves me correctly he’s my fathers new pride and joy. Delightful. He looks me up and down and I can barely suppress a shudder of disgust. 

“Hey f*cktard, you can stop staring at me now.” I call out to him, effectively making him stop staring. I swish my hair quickly making sure my face is covered before flipping him off and angrily stomping out of the office. I make my way through the halls effectively parting all of the students. Being feared has some plus sides. I smirk as I walk into the locker rooms. My first class is a free period so I always go to the gym to let out some anger. I quickly get changed into black leggings and a black sports b*a with a mesh back. I walk into the gym and immediately go to the punching bags. I imagine my fathers face on the bag and let loose all of my anger. 

Almost an hour later the warning bell rings signaling the end of class. I walk leisurely toward the locker rooms to change back. By the time I’m done changing and covering up the bruise on my face class has already started. I grab my binder and walk through the deserted hall to my math class. I swing the door open loudly letting it slam shut behind me. 

“Ms. Thorn how nice of you to join us. Do you think you could ever be on time?” 

“tsk. Tsk. Now Mrs. Spencer why would I ever break tradition?” I coo while walking to my seat, making a few other students snicker. I lazily gesture my hand towards the white board behind my math teacher. “Carry on.” She does just that, droning on and on about different math terms that I’ll never learn and never need to learn. I survey the class a bit, my eyes stop on a new boy in the class. The same one from the office. I audibly sigh but most students think it’s in relation to the boring lesson. I take on last look at the boy I find positively repulsive before laying my head on my binder and taking a short nap for the rest of the lesson.