The Boy Who Couldn't Love

Chapter One: Liar Liar

he was all seven of the deadly sins. he was every reason that i should've run but i didn't want to run.
he was as predictable as the day turning to evening, but i never knew which version of the moon i would get at night.

It was about 8:15 when my dad finally came to dinner. He'd spent most of the day in his office, drawing up plans for the new art building which worked out well for me. I liked having him out of my way.
Between cleaning the house, doing the laundry and making sure there was dinner on the table every day, I felt like a single mother looking after her father. My father, who by the way was a whole thirty years older than me, was a well known and highly respected architect and loved by everyone; everyone that didn't know his secret.
His secret was that he was an abusive psychopath and a raging alcoholic.
When I was born, he and my mom bought a house that was too big for just the three of us and I spent a lot of my childhood finding places to hide away from him in it. As I grew bigger, the house seemed to grow smaller and now I felt like I was caged in like a prisoner.
My father's abusive tendencies definitely got a lot worse when he was drunk which was pretty much all the time. But sometimes, at very little times, he could be kind of sweet. He very rarely let his sweet side show and I didn't know if it was because he thought it made him look weak or if it was just rarely there. He seemed to save that part of himself for Hunter.
Hunter and I have known each other since we were about four or five-years-old. He used to live in the same street as us but when he was twelve, he and his mom moved a few blocks away. He would never stop visiting me though, almost every day. He would always ride his bike over here until he grew out of it and traded it for his Grandfather's red 1964 Chevrolet Corvette, which was older than him. He said this meant he could come and go as he pleased, and he did.
My dad entered the room and sat at the table, stretching his arm over his shoulder and itching the back of his neck as he yawned. Sometimes, I felt sad for him. He was always overworking himself to the point where even I made excuses for why he would yell at me. I was too young to remember my mom dying but he never liked to talk about her. I knew that was the source of his anger.
He was left a thirty-two year-old widow with a young daughter and a full time job, not to mention his reputation building over the years was a lot of pressure for him. My dad wasn't just an architect for this town, he would sometimes spend days in other parts of the States which I never minded. I liked being alone.
I poured him a glass of red wine to go with his rare steak and garlic potatoes with peppered sauce. He didn't say 'thank you' and I didn't expect him to. I handed him a napkin and sat down next to him. I listened to the sounds of cutlery scraping against his plate until he finally spoke.
"Everything ready for tomorrow?" he asked, while digging his fork into his steak.
"Yes, daddy," I answered.
"Good because I don't want you fucking this up like you did last time. You have no idea what I had to go through to keep my job."
"I know," I nodded my head. My mind went back to what happened last time, but he interrupted that.
"You do remember the rules, don't you, Bailie? Because you and I both know I would hate to have to remind you." My dad took a bite then slowly slid the fork out from between his lips, keeping his eyes on me the entire time.
"Yeah, I remember." A thud in my stomach caused my heart to start pounding. My dad looked at me and raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to say them out loud.
"Make friends. Be good. Don't be reckless."
"Good," he smirked. "And you'll do well to remember those. Everyone is expecting you tomorrow and if my reputation suffers because of you - well, I think I've made my point pretty clear." He wasn't smiling anymore and I was afraid to breathe out. I nodded my head again and we continued to eat in silence.

After loading the dishwasher and cleaning the kitchen, I went for a long shower then crawled into my bed and wondered what tomorrow would be like.
I was nervous because a new school meant new faces, and having to make new friends meant having to learn new names and new stories. The only thing that gave me great comfort was that I'd get to spend even more time with Hunter, he always made me feel safe.
Growing up without a father has obviously altered some part of Hunter's brain that should have been left alone. Most of the time, he would be really sweet and charming, but then there would be those rare times when he would feel really distant and cold and kind of look dead behind the eyes.
Since his dad was never around, his mom was always trying to find a replacement. Bringing home man after man and giving it just enough time for Hunter to get close to them, only for them to eventually disappear on them. It was hard for him to not feel completely rejected. It got to the point where he felt like his own mother didn't even love him, that she was only staying with him because she was legally required to.
Eventually, his mom got depressed and lost her job, so she started entertaining men for money. Men would be coming in and out of the house, pay her for her services then leave again. The walls of the house were paper thin so Hunter would hear everything going on and sometimes he would even see it.
My dad was there for Hunter and that taught him that he'd never abandon him. Over the years, my dad taught him how to fix cars, how to talk to girls, how to shave and basically everything a young man should know. It was nice that they had the relationship that they had. I just wish it was the same for me.
With those thoughts on my mind, I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, I was waking up to my alarm going off.
I had a text from Hunter saying he'd pick me up in an hour, so I quickly got out of bed and got dressed, pulling on a pair of ripped jeans, a white jumper and an open, grey flannel. As quick as I could, I threw make-up on my face, enough to look somewhat natural.
Downstairs, my dad sat an empty bottle of whiskey on the counter top, presumably from the night before, then sat down with a cup of coffee. He looked at me, then at my outfit then his eyes shifted down to his coffee. The rules he continuously warned me about repeated themselves in my mind and the nerves quickly seeped their way through my skin.
Everyone was expecting me today.
Before either of us had a chance to speak, Hunter beeped outside.