Here's the second chapter!


CHAPTER 2
Jade's POV

Beck waited outside of his truck as I walked up to my porch. I reached into my bag and pulled out my keys before clicking the door open. I turned around, and saw that his eyebrows were furrowed deeply, his arms across his chest, like he was upset about something.

"What's wrong?" I called, not stepping into my house yet.

"Can you call me later?" he said back, his expression unchanging. I could tell that he was hiding something. "Like, right before you go to bed or something?"

"I don't know," I responded. "I go to bed pretty late. I don't want to wake you up."

"No, it'll be fine." He waved a hand at me airily, at the same time walking to the other side of the truck and opening the heavy door. "Just call me okay? I, uh…well, just do it anyway." He gave me no other reasons and hopped into the truck.

I sighed and entered my house. I locked the door behind me and peeked through the window, seeing Beck sitting on the curb, the engine of his truck purring loudly. He looked at my house suspiciously for a couple of seconds and then drove off.

I turned around and observed my living room. It was very dark, and I suspected that no one was home. What a surprise, I thought. My parents had divorced when I was three. I was left with my dad and never saw my mom again after that day in the courtroom. My dad worked late in the afternoon and ended at around midnight. It didn't bother me, because then it meant that he would be home when I was at school, and I always tried to avoid him at all costs.

My dad was certainly not the nicest of men, but I always told myself that he could be worse, which was really hard to do sometimes. Yes, he had parties literally every day and trashed the house. Yes, he got angry a lot and liked to take it out on me. And I bet if he found out that I had a boyfriend he would murder us both, but he was my dad after all. He still let me go to Hollywood Arts, and I had a lot more freedom than other kids did—but then again, it was probably better that way.

I walked into the kitchen, turning on the light. I was met by quite a surprise of a mess. The countertop had beer bottles scattered over the normally clean granite surface. Some of the bottles were partially full, and dripping puddles of beer where they hung over the edge onto the floor. The sink was piled with dirty dishes and cups, even though it had been completely empty before I had left for school this morning. Dad must've had a party, I thought grimly, walking through the kitchen to the family room.

The first thing that hit me was the overpowering smell of alcohol. I immediately brought my hands to my face to try and block out the disgusting scent as I scouted around the room.

The couch was on its side, facing the wall, revealing its shredded underneath. Wow, I wonder how old that is, I thought to myself. There were new holes in the carpet so big you could see the hardwood floor underneath them. More bottles littered the ground—wine and vodka ones—as well as the usual beer.

Looking around some more, I saw what looked like women's clothes (that were clearly not mine) bunched up in a corner of the room. That's nasty, Dad, I thought with a shiver, not able to imagine the things my dad might've done to another girl. Thankfully, he has never tried to rape me...yet...and I hope it stays like that.

I was trying to see what more damage my dad had caused to our family room, but the scent of alcohol was so strong I felt like I was getting drunk just by smelling it. I backed out of there and headed up to my bedroom.

I clambered up the stairs loudly, my footsteps echoing through the empty house. To my great relief, I found my bedroom door was still locked. I unlocked it quickly and went inside, finding that everything seemed to be in order. It was definitely a new habit of mine to keep my room locked, because my dad always seemed to have the craziest, randomest parties in the world, and nothing could be worse then coming home and finding my room trashed (which did happen on several occasions, but was less frequent after I had bought a deadbolt for the door).

I tossed my bag onto my bed and headed to the bathroom to get washed up. Someone had written a bunch of random letters on the mirror in what looked like permanent marker. I sighed, running my hand through my hair. It seemed to me like the parties my dad threw were just getting wilder and wilder. A few days ago I had found broken glass inside some of my shoes, and when the dishwasher stopped working I found a pulpy mess of what looked like a cardboard pizza box on top of the blades.

I got cleaned up as fast I could, feeling lonely in a way. Not many people that I knew visited my house. Beck had come over on a few occasions, but I had made sure my dad was on business trip before he came. He didn't know what went on with me and my dad, and I hoped to keep it that way. It was sort of my way of protecting him.

I sat down on my bed, folding my legs underneath me. I reached over and pulled my bag towards me so I could start doing my homework.


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It was hours later when I heard the front door bang open loudly. I sat up, startled from my nap, which I had started to take right when I was done with my homework. I listened closely and heard heavy footsteps in the living room.

"Jadelyn West!" my father boomed. "Get down here right now!"

Gulping, I left my bedroom and walked down the stairs slowly, for the first time seeing the true mess that lay in the living room. My dad stood there, looking oddly professional with a suit, tie, and shiny black dress shoes on. It was still a little bit dark, but he closed the door behind him, showering the room in black again before flipping on the light switch.

"What is this mess, Jade?" he asked me, gesturing to the trash all over the room with one hand, while the other hung at his side, clutching a large brown briefcase.

"I didn't do anything." I stood at the bottom of the stairs, not wanting to get any closer to him. I looked down at my feet, noticing all of the paper plates, napkins, cups, and a bunch of other things littering the floor.

"Don't lie to me, Jade," he said, his ice-blue eyes that I had inherited glittered dangerously.

"I'm not lying. I didn't do anything," I repeated. "You did!" I almost wanted to mention the women's clothes I had found in one corner, but I held my tongue.

"Stop saying such nonsense. Just clean up everything and I'll let it go," he sneered, striding towards me. I stiffened and he stopped, his face inches from mine. He poked me in the stomach, and I could smell his breath, which wasn't pleasant but I didn't smell any alcohol.

I growled and my throat burned with anger and the thousand comebacks that tried to claw their way out.

I didn't do any of this! Why should I have to clean this up? But I knew better than to argue with my father. The last time I did, I had to spend the week at a very confused Beck's house because he had gotten so crazy drunk that he almost killed me. Luckily I had covered that up by saying that he was gone away on a business trip and I didn't want to stay home by myself.

I walked to the kitchen, stomping my feet loudly on the way. I hated the way he treated me. It was like I was just his personal servant to clean up all of the messes he made. That's why when people would ask me to do little things for them I would get all defensive and upset.

No one really knew me. Not even Beck, although he was closer to me than anyone else was. When you have a secret, especially like mine, you keep it hidden as long as you can, and at all costs.


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I finished cleaning within an hour and half. I had recycled all the bottles, scrubbed off the carpet (although I could do nothing to fix the holes), mopped up the puddles of alcohol, and even managed to put the couch back its original position, although it took me a full twenty minutes to sit it upright and push it against the wall (my dad was somewhere else in the house, of course, not helping me).

I retreated back to my bedroom after I put the cleaning stuff away. My PearPhone sat on top of the dresser. I plopped down on my bed, realizing too late that my door was wide open. I was too lazy to get up, so I just lay down and stared up at the ceiling.

Suddenly, I heard a loud smash from downstairs. Really? I just cleaned everything up. I didn't move, but I could hear my dad shouting at the top of his lungs.

"She's ruined everything! She's ruined everything! She drove my wife away and she's destroyed my career! She's ruined everything!" he yelled wildly.

I flinched when I heard him say this. He's probably drunk again, I thought, trying to reassure myself into thinking that he wasn't talking about me. But of course, that was most likely not true. I knew my dad hated me as much as I hated him, and I knew from things he said in the past that I seemed to be the reason for all of the misery that occurred in his life. Of course, I couldn't control half of the things I did, especially since being born seemed to be one of his biggest regrets.

There was a loud stomping noise, and my mind jolted as I realized he was coming up the stairs. I struggled to get off my bed and run to close the door, but I was too late. My dad stood in the doorway, both of his hands behind his back.

"Jaaddee," he mumbled, taking a step into my room.

"No Dad, go away," I said, not moving from my spot in front of him. He barely had any control over me when he was sober, what more when he was drunk? "You're really drunk. Get out of my room." I went to push him backwards, but he caught both of my hands with one of his own.

"Jaaddee," he repeated, his grip on my hands tightening. I tried to pull away, but he ended up throwing me onto the floor. My phone was on my dresser; I couldn't reach it from where I was on the ground.

"Get out of my room, Dad," I said again, this time much more firmly. The trick was to show him you weren't afraid, and usually he would leave just long enough for you to climb out the window or lock your door better.

But not this time.

My dad rolled his eyes, stepping closer and closer towards me. I wanted to get up, but I was frozen. I was cornered in my room—the only way out being the window, but that was a good distance away. His hand had retreated to behind his back again, and I had a bad feeling that he was hiding something from me.

"No, Jade, we need to taallkk," my dad slurred, and from behind his back he revealed the large beer bottle with broken top, its jagged edges shining in the light of my bedroom.


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Note: This is not a femslash, sorry!