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The next day, as the sun set behind the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the compound. Dad finally returned home. Unbeknownst to him, I had been huddled in the bathroom, nursing a self-inflicted wound, lost in a sea of regret and despair.

Startled by the sound of the front door opening, I hastily tried to conceal the evidence of my self-destructive act. "Y/n, are you in here?" called out Steve, his voice tinged with concern.

Summoning all the composure I could muster, I stammered, "I, uhm... I'm changing! I'll be downstairs in a few minutes."

"Alright, honey. Love ya!" he replied, his words echoing with a mix of love and genuine worry.

My heart ached as I struggled to utter the words, "L-love you too..."

As I listened to the door close, relief washed over me momentarily. I wiped away the blood, hoping to erase the physical reminder of my inner turmoil. With a heavy sigh, I gathered what little strength remained and made my way downstairs, where my fathers awaited me.

Bucky, ever observant, noticed the pallor in my face and voiced his concern. "Honey, you look so pale... Is everything okay?"

I mustered a weak smile and replied, "I'm... I'm just not feeling well, papa."

Steve, always the caring father, chimed in, "Yeah, sweetheart, maybe you should have something to eat or drink. It might make you feel better."

But little did they know, as they didn't stop talking I just walked upstairs and locked the door.

I was growing distant from my dad, and it seemed like he was slowly losing hope in me. As I descended the stairs to join them for lunch, a sense of tension filled the air, foreshadowing the impending escalation of our strained relationship.

"Hey, papa," I began, trying to keep my tone casual, "I'm heading over to a friend's house again today."

Bucky's voice carried a note of concern as he inquired, "And do I know this friend?"

I hesitated for a moment, contemplating the web of lies I had spun. "Just someone from my old class," I replied, my voice tinged with evasion.

Bucky's eyes narrowed slightly as he pressed further, "And what's their name?"

"Charlie," I offered, hoping to quell his suspicions.

Bucky's gaze intensified as he sought to uncover the truth. "And is Charlie a boy or a girl?"

"Girl," I responded hastily, frustration seeping into my voice. "Can you please stop being so annoying?"

His patience wore thin, and the tone in his voice grew stern. "Watch your mouth, young lady."

Steve, who had been silently observing the exchange, interjected, "What about me? Shouldn't you ask for my permission too?"

I chose to ignore his comment, believing that dismissing him would spare me from further conflict. However, my disregard only fueled the fire, leading to an explosive reaction I hadn't anticipated.

Suddenly, Steve leaped to his feet, slamming his hands on the table with a resounding thud. The sheer force of his action startled me, and for a moment, silence enveloped the room, punctuated only by the palpable tension.

Desperately seeking an answer, I turned to Bucky, my voice quivering with uncertainty. "Can I go, papa?"

His eyes locked with mine, a mixture of disappointment and frustration etched on his face. "Y/n, this isn't just about asking permission or being annoying. We're trying to protect you. We're worried about the choices you're making, the people you're spending time with."

Steve, his voice filled with a raw vulnerability, added, "We don't want to see you get hurt or make choices that could have long-lasting consequences. We love you, and we're just trying to be there for you."

I took a deep breath, my own vulnerability seeping into my voice. "Yeah... okay, can I go?"

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