The Bad Boy and The Baker

|| Chapter 2 ||

I immediately tense. I hear his footsteps storm through the entrance. The floorboards creak, as he stomps on them. Every step is like a blow to my lungs. I already know what's coming. I rush out of my room to where my parents are. My dad points furiously to his phone with our trackers on it. Mom and I both have one on our phones "for safety reasons".
He turns to my brother, "where did you guys go". My brother stands still as a statue. He repeats himself, this time an octave louder, "where did you guys go".

"To pick up a couch", my brother says briefly. My dad's gaze turns feral. He grabs my mom forcefully by the neck and the arm and starts pushing her out of the entrance, through the door, and down the stairs. Legs shaking, heart erratic, and breathing barely there, I fist the back of his sweatshirt and tug him backwards with sheer adrenaline.

"Don't touch her", I say my voice deadly calm and even. His head whips back towards me.

"What did you say," he says venomously.

"Don't. Touch. Her".

"I'm not touching her, she's touching me".

I want to cry, I want to scream, there is no reasoning with this poor excuse of a man. How do you try to reason with someone who constantly avoids his own wrongdoings?

"Don't gaslight me".

"Where are you learning these terms, is she teaching you", he says and tugs on the back of my mom's neck.

Does he think I'm an idiot, does he think I haven't grown, does he think I haven't watched dozens of videos on the term because of him? At this point I don't even know how I'm still standing, my legs are still shaking, half from fury, and half from being scared for my mom. My older brother Max just stands there. I'm alone.

He continues pushing her out until I say, "I don't feel safe". I don't even know why I say it. I don't all the other times it happens. This time is different though. She's so close. He can't do this to her again. She can not be the stereotype that comes back to her toxic partner. Not after all the hours, it took me to reassure her that she wasn't abandoning me. That I'd be fine. What a lie. But it's okay because he's already broken me, he can't break her too.

"You don't feel safe? It's me who doesn't feel safe. I have been taking medication because I don't feel safe, because of your mother. I have been working my entire life since I was fifteen just to provide for all of you, and now you are all being ungrateful gold diggers. She's turning you all against me, at the time when I need her the most. You know that if she leaves, we're all leaving with her right?"

"Whatever makes her happy", I respond knowing that over my dead body will he follow her.

He then turns to her and said, "See this is what you're doing, dividing our family. I've been treating you better than you deserve and this is how you repay me? Come on, we're going to take a walk. Let's go, let's go".

My lungs feel empty, I have trouble breathing, and I feel the start of a panic attack. I shove my feet in my shoes to go with them, but my brother tells me it's not my business, my mom hands me the pile of clothes nearby and tells me to bring it to my room. I feel defeated. I feel angry beyond words. I do it and right when he closes the door. I let out a big sob.

"It sucks being in a dysfunctional family, doesn't it," my brother says while coming closer to comfort me.

I push him away, he did nothing, I don't want to need a hug, I need reassurance.

I run through the house looking through all the windows and watching them walk. Watching where his hands are, how close he is to her. I watch it all before they disappear down the street, the only thing that can be seen is my dad's big gestures, as if him trying to scare the shit out of her will push her into submission and make her stay.

I don't know what to do. I need to do something. I go to the kitchen and start taking out a baking sheet from the cabinet. I spray it with non-stock oil and begin to make the batter for my cake for the Christmas party. I throw in eggs, flour, sugar, chocolate powder, and baking soda in a bowl, and whisk everything together. The tears have long since dried on my cheek, and my smile from gaining the couch has disappeared. The stoic face that remains is painful to keep but necessary, I can't let him affect me this much. After a thin and fluffy layer of chocolate cake comes out from the oven; I add Nutella, whip cream, and cut strawberries. I roll everything together and apply whip cream mixed with cocoa powder on the outside, creating texture the texture of a log with a fork; once my cake is done, I sift some powdered sugar on top. Definitely a simple cake, but my mind is too hectic to attempt a more difficult one, this will have to do.

God, I cant wait to get wasted at the party next weekend.