Stucky's daughter 2

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The flashlight's beam cut through the darkness, revealing the truth in my dilated eyes. Steve's grip on my arm tightened, his face a mixture of anger and concern, as he glared at the other kids around us.

"Give me the drugs you have!" Steve demanded, his voice firm and unwavering.

The boy attempted to act tough, "We don't have any."

Bucky stepped forward, his voice stern, "Then how can she be high? And you too?"

The boy shifted uncomfortably, finally admitting, "She had some in her jacket!"

My heart pounded in my chest as I protested, "No! That's not true!"

Steve's voice became more forceful, "Give me the drugs, or I'm gonna call the police, and they will find them! I mean it, give them to us!"

Reluctantly, the boy handed over a plastic bag filled with drugs, which my dad swiftly placed into his brown leather jacket pocket.

Bucky continued the interrogation, "Do you have any other substances here? Alcohol? Cigarettes?"

The kids sighed and reluctantly handed over more items, their demeanor defeated.

Steve's concern for everyone's safety compelled him, "I think I still must call the police!"

The boy attempted to reason, "No! You said-"

Steve cut him off sharply, "This is a dangerous situation!"

I pleaded, feeling embarrassed and exposed, "Stop...please, it's embarrassing..."

Steve's frustration reached its peak, "Stop?! Y/n, shut up! If this is embarrassing to you, then you wanna know what's embarrassing to me? You are! You! I never thought that my kid is gonna be a drug addict or hurt herself! So shut up!"

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I had never seen my dads so disappointed and angry with me. Their love, once an unwavering source of comfort, now felt like a distant memory.

Bucky, trying to mediate, suggested, "Alright, let's get back, Steve..."

Though they didn't call the police, the atmosphere was tense as they packed up our belongings and we drove home in silence.

Once in the car, my dad's frustration was palpable. He packed our stuff aggressively, his jaw clenched, and his eyes filled with a mix of anger and sorrow.

Bucky tried to soothe the situation, "Honey, maybe you should calm down."

Steve's response was sharp, "No...no, I don't need to calm down!"

Bucky offered, "Should I drive?"

Steve shook his head, his determination evident, "No."

As we drove home, a heavy silence hung in the air. My heart ached with regret, knowing I had hurt the people who loved me most. Their disappointment and anger were more painful than any consequence the drugs could bring.

As we arrived home, Steve placed our belongings on the floor with controlled frustration. His voice was cold, filled with simmering anger as he uttered, "Go to bed now."

I glanced up at him, feeling a mix of fear and guilt in my heart. Before I could respond, his hand suddenly slammed on the small coffee table in front of us, making me flinch.

" I SAID GO TO BED!" Steve repeated, the intensity of his words piercing through me.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I stammered, "S-sorry..."

Feeling the weight of their disappointment, I obediently walked past them and headed upstairs to my room. The moment I closed the door, my emotions overcame me, and I broke down into loud sobs, unable to contain my anguish.

Shortly after, there was a knock on my door, and Bucky entered with a mixture of concern and firmness in his demeanor.

"Me and Dad want to go to sleep. Please be a bit more quiet," Bucky said gently, trying to show that he cared while also emphasizing the seriousness of the situation.

I nodded through my tears, feeling the weight of their expectations and my own failures crushing me. "Sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

As they left my room, the silence engulfed me, and I lay on my bed, feeling utterly alone and lost. The walls of my room seemed to close in, and the weight of my actions bore down on me, suffocating any sense of hope.

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What should happen next?