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╰┈➤❝ [you are a fever i am learning to live with.] ❞ ╰┈➤ richard siken
"JESUS," she mumbled as she watched the live footage. The man's wide, terrified eyes. The squeaking of the rats in the cage. The masked man's manic laughter. She felt the pit in her stomach growing heavier. Her mouth opened for her to speak, but no words came out. It was all so much. Was he used to things like this? Is that why he barely reacted? His eyes watched the television like it was the seven o'clock weather for the week. Maybe it was the woman next to him that calmed him. She looked equally as calm, remarking how she'd seen him in the club before. A pang of jealousy nestled its way under her skin as she watched him watch the woman. She felt like a little kid, having a crush on a boy she saw across the playground.
Her phone buzzed on her desk. Her father's number. Her heart dropped at his name. Grabbing the phone, she turned around on the stool, her back facing the computer. Her thumb slid across the screen, answering the call. "Hey, Dad-"
"Where the fuck are you?" He didn't shout. His voice wasn't raised at her. She'd almost rather him yell at her. "Can you imagine how it would look if you're out in the city while a serial killer's loose? The city would have us crucified."
"Dad, it's fine, I'n just... I'm with..." She trailed off with a nervous frown. "I'm just with Phoebe, Dad."
"Don't fucking lie to me. Your mother already called her." The pit in her stomach widened. "Apparently she ended your friendship on Halloween. There goes your only friend. So what's your excuse now?"
Her mouth ran dry, a desert where not even the mirage of water could save you. After nearly thirty years of living with her father, she learned how to avoid him during his worst moods. But it was difficult to avoid his anger when she was the source of it. Biting her bottom lip, she rubbed her face. "I'm just... I'm out with a friend-"
"If you're not home in the next thirty minutes, you're fucking homeless." With that, the line went dead.
Siobhan felt hot tears growing in her eyes. Fuck! She wanted to scream. "Siobhan," the deep voice called from the speakers behind her, "is everything alright?" She remained silent for a moment, unsure of how to answer. If she felt like a child before, she felt like an infant now. How did she tell him that her father wanted her to come home, like she was some seven year old who had a bedtime. "Siobhan?" The way he said her name, like it was something fragile, something he would break if he spoke too harsh. It was such a stark contrast to her father. Part of her had always feared that she would marry a man like her father. And now maybe she was upset that she hadn't been nicer to Bruce as a kid. Maybe they would've been beautiful and happy together. Maybe he wouldn't have become this if they had been something. Or maybe she was just filling her mind with pretty fantasies, anything to take her away from whatever hell she was about to face.
