After Curfew

Chapter 6 - Fighting

Chapter 6 - Fighting

I sped out of the school parking lot the same way Slate had done just over a week ago, and for the first time in my life, I wasn't happy to be leaving school. My mother had texted me during last period to tell me her and my father needed to talk with me right after school, and I knew from experience that family meetings were never a good thing.

I pulled up to our gate and entered the code before proceeding to drive up to the house. I decided against parking in the garage and instead parked in the driveway, directly in front of the door in case I needed to make a quick escape, which—when it came to family meetings—was more than likely to happen.

I walked into the main kitchen and sat down at the much too long table across from my parents. My mom had a cup of coffee between her hands and my dad had a glass of wine between his fingers but everything other than those small details seemed very out of place.

"Hi Willow." My mom said finally greeting me and I rolled my eyes at her useless greeting. We all knew we were here for a reason and it wasn't to make pleasant small talk.

"What did you need to talk to me about?" I questioned quickly, trying not to be rude despite the anxiety that was gripping me by the throat.

"Have some respect." My father snapped, causing me to flinch involuntarily at his unexpected abrupt tone. I nodded silently.

I watch my mother purse her lips as she looked up at my father gratefully, making a show of trying to calm down and find her patience before talking to me again.

"As you know, your brother has been in jail for 3 months ..." At the mention of Jace—something that she hadn't done since the day he got arrested—I felt my throat tighten, anticipating the worst. "Your father and I were just informed that in a month he will be up for parole and there's a possibility he will be released." My heart soared for a second, an irrational and potentially painful amount of hope filling me—until she started speaking again.

"I know it's not ideal but if he does get released he may have to come live here temporarily until we can find somewhere else to send him." I bit my tongue until blood poured into my mouth. She briefly acknowledged my expression, before spewing bullshît that had me wanting to show her what a murderer really looks like.

"We do not support murder in this household." As soon as her words processed in my head, I lost it.

"HOW DARE YOU?" I screamed at them, enraged by the way they were talking about their own son. "HE'S YOUR SON!" My throat was burning.

"He killed someone because he was driving under the influence, that is inexcusable." My father spoke harsh and level, unbothered by the conversation or my state of mind.

"That is so rich coming from you guys. He wasn't drunk driving for fücks sake, someone drugged him and he told you that! He's your son, you're supposed to believe him." I said no longer yelling by the end of the sentence as tears flowed freely down my cheeks. "You're supposed to believe him..." I whispered again, my voice cracking as more tears fell. You're supposed to love us.

I grabbed my bag off the ground and looked at my parents one more time, that painful hope I always held convincing me that maybe this time I'd gotten to them, but their expressions held everything except compassion and regret and I knew what was coming next.

"Get out of our house." He was pouring himself another glass of wine, looking at his phone as he stuck a knife in my chest for the millionth time since I'd been born. Would it ever get less painful?

I made my way to the front entrance and swung the door open, but right before I left I turned around to say one last thing. "Don't think I don't know that you're only this upset with him, because the accident could've made the family look bad. I hope one day you guys realize how incredible Jace is and when you do I hope you know it's because he chose to be everything you guys are not."