Everything Comes With A Price (The Grabber Fanfiction)

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Susanna

All her life Susanna felt a permeant lump in her throat, an undeniable urge to scream as loud as she possibly could. She wanted to scream until all the air in her lungs ran out, but when she tried, nothing but a puff of hot air escaped her mouth.

If daddy could see me now, she thought. She could picture the vein in his neck bulging out as he ripped into her—No daughter of mine...blablabla.

Despite what her parents would say Susanna was always a good kid, no star pupil by any means; but she kept her head down and her nose clean. Dective Miller expected perfection, he had a reputation to uphold, and Susanna's outspoken, forward-thinking attitude didn't fit the picture. For the record Susanna did try, she spent the better half of her teenage years trying to reason with him; yet every time they always came to same conclusion. No matter what she did, it would never be enough, or it would be far too much. Susanna strived for perfection, and now she was burned out, and paying for it. She found out the hard way that it was exhausting trying to please someone who kept rising the bar higher and higher knowing you'd never be able to reach it.

Her father built her a box—four imaginary walls lined with rules, and unobtainable expectations rather than concrete. If she wanted to be loved, and worthy she needed to be good. She needed to stay within the lines of that box he built and be content with being something she wasn't. But Susanna didn't fit in a box, and there was no room big enough to hold all of her; she was an unstoppable force, and her father should have known that by now.

Her memories haunted her, they lingered in the back of her mind. And now that she gone the memories were all she had left, replaying on an ever-going loop. Reliving them was almost even more painful. Now she was seeing things in a different light—a nostalgic perspective was wearing her down.

Susanna could hear her father's voice...

"It's like you're trying to get kidnapped. "Her father hollered out driver's window.

Susanna didn't care how cold it was. The weather was no match for her anger, neither was her father apparently. She walked the stretch of the block in the dead of winter. Her braided hair was whipping around in the wind. She had nothing more than the clothes on her back, and a measly scarf. Her nose was red, and runny. The wind was so loud she could hardly hear her father's voice over it.

"Susanna, you're really asking to get kidnapped. You're just asking for it. You had mother worried sick. You scared us half to death. You don't just run off."

It was the first time she had ever ran away, she was gone for less than two hours when her father found her. She held her arms firmly across her chest. Finally, she turned around, and the patrol car stopped. She slammed her fists down at her side.

"It serves you right to worry," she huffed. "I'm not getting in the car."

Her father got out of the car, and pointed to the passenger seat, "Get in the car! Susanna, I'm not asking again!"

"No!"

He let out a groan, and looked to the sky for some sort of sign from the god he so desperately believed in.

"What did I do wrong? How did we mess up so bad with you? Why can't you just listen? Why do you insist on being the thorn in my side?"

***

Susanna took a deep labored breath. She reminded herself it was all behind her now. She was far away, he couldn't catch her now; if he was even still looking. Part of her hope he was worried sick. Maybe if she died he would realize she was good just the way she was. Too bad it took dying to convincing him of all that.