Asher King's life has revolved around putting up an involuntary mask to hide his true self. With successful parents boasting about his 'pretend' success, Asher feels as though the life he is living was never his to begin with, and a home of happines...
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I have been waiting on the doorstep for about twenty minutes, too afraid to go inside.
I already know my parents are outraged and I'm just trying to prolong the inevitable for as long as possible.
I pull out my phone to text Leo, stalling for one last time.
———————————————————————— I'm home
Okay, beautiful, see you at school tomorrow :) ————————————————————————
My heart skips a beat. Leo is the only courage I need to enter the house and finally face my parents.
I take one last deep breath before I open the front door.
The house is eerily silent. That scares me more than anything. I hear footsteps approaching and immediately clench my eyes shut, waiting for impact.
It never comes. Instead, comforting arms wrap around me and I almost cry in relief.
Oliver gently rubs my back before pulling away. I look up at him and there is a sorrowful expression on his face.
My heart immediately drops.
"Your parents are waiting for you in their office," he reveals sadly.
Tears prick the corner of my eyes and I forcefully shake my head. "I-I can't do it, Oliver."
"Hey, hey," he says soothingly and places his hands on my shoulder. "It'll be okay, I promise."
I look deep into his eyes and see that he is being genuine, but there is also a hint of fear.
I eventually nod. He hugs me one last time.
"Meet me in the garden when you are done," he whispers. "You don't have to come right away. Just know I will be there when you are ready."
I nod my head and Oliver pulls away, walking toward the backyard.
I shamefully trudge over to my parent's office. Before I even raise my hand to knock, I hear my father's voice ring from the other side.
"Come in."
Don't freak out.
I enter the office with a fast-beating heart and find my parents seated at the meeting table in the center.
The room is so suffocating that I feel someone's hand wrap around my neck with every step I take toward my parents—each tantalizing step leading to a pit of darkness.
I sit down in the chair across from them and it's still silent. I expected my father to be already yelling at me by now, but his silence scares me even more.
"Where were you?" my father asks in a still tone.
I don't respond.
"Where. Were. You?" He says with a little more threat.
