chapter 5

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Taking a deep and hollow breath, I turned the handle on the front door. With a gentle push, the door slowly swung open. A gust of hot nicotine air brushed past me.

I was hyper aware of everything. Every sound, every smell, every feeling and touch. I walked steadily into the house and looked over to see Robert sitting on the sofa, he was counting rolls of money I assumed he won from the poker game.

My presence was known, I knew that. The door opening was loud enough to be heard and I wasn't out of sight. Maybe he was waiting for me to let my guard down. I could feel myself slipping away, my heart beat had to kick start again.

"Hello." I whispered and Robert cocked his head in my direction. He put the money down on the table and stopped from counting it. It was eerily silent. His black eyes were piercing, his eyebrows permanently furrowed.

"Where've you been?" He asked, his voice a deep growl as he put out a cigarette on the table. I could feel it again, my spirit leaving my body. I disconnected from it, I was far far away.

I tired to answer, but my command went unnoticed. My body just stood there. I thought about if he knew about Lucas, About the band? Or maybe he found something else out.

"Why don't you, fucking answer me!" He smashed his fist against the coffee table, all the change and money rattled.

"I w-was out." I managed but I instantly regretted saying anything at all.

"Where? Where is "out"?" He stood up and a chill went through me. I couldn't manage to move a single muscle, my body rigidly still.

"Are you using again?" His words shocked me.

In surprise and fear, I muttered a harsh and low "no!" Which seemed to be his invitation to start walking towards me.

"What's in the bag? Huh? Your not using? Then what's in the fucking bag?" He lunged towards me and grabbed the straps of my bag. I held onto them desperately, trying to stop him from taking the bag from me.

"Give me the god damn bag Ollie!" His voice was like thunder and after enough struggle I felt him grab a hold my my arm. He twisted it and took the bag strap off from my shoulder, then did the same with the other.

My heart was racing, it burned in my chest. I pounded my first against my ribcage and fought back the tears that stung in my eyes. My shoulders ached and I moved my right one around, popping it back into place with blood curdling agony.

He opened the bag and pulled out the hat and shirt. Confusion caused the 11 to show on his forehead and he looked at me is disbelief.

"What? W-whats is this? A uniform?" He rummaged further into the bag and pulled out the shoes and pants.

"This is where you've been? Working at a little coffeeshop? Your a grown man Ollie. You should be out there getting your hands dirty, not fucking around making lattes all day. I told you to get a fucking job and you got this? You didn't even tell me about it?" He threw the shoes at me and I shuddered.

"Rent. $200 a month, for now. Clean this up and get out of my sight. I can't even look at you." He growled before he walked back over to the couch and continued to count his money.

I stared down at the floor, at the contents of my bag. Hurriedly tidying everything up and throwing it all back into the bag, I rushed off to my room. I needed to get out of here. My anxiety was sky rocketing and I needed help. For once I wanted someone to help me!

I grabbed my guitar and hopped back into the car. I still felt disgusting, I was dirty and sweaty. I'd shower at Grayson's, it wouldn't be the first time.

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