The Guardian

Chapter Three

I froze when I saw the caller ID. Quickly and quietly I ran out Niall’s front door, locking it behind me. The phone continued to ring, and shakily, I answered. I was hesitant, but I knew I had to if I didn’t want to receive a black eye later.

“Hello?” I answered, almost inaudibly. I was unable to breathe. No, it wasn’t nerves, nor was it fear. It was sheer terror.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he slurred from the other line. It was only 9 AM and he was already drunk. Good.

“I was at Niall’s… last night was his first game of the season, so we went back to his house to celebrate and I guess I fell asleep on the couch or something,” I fibbed, walking down the sidewalk of our street.

“Alison get your ass back hom--“

“I’m already in the driveway relax,” I replied, quickly hanging up.

As I shoved my phone back in my pocket, my dad opened the front door, stumbling out onto the porch.

He wasn’t a tall man, maybe about 5’9”. He had a receding hairline and a graying beard, and let’s not forget the massive beer belly – making him appear much older than he actually was.

“Get inside,” he mumbled, clutching his glass of scotch as if his life depended on it. I unwillingly dragged myself up the front steps, scurrying past my father before he could say or do anything to stop me. As I headed up the stairs, I felt him grab me by my wrist, yanking me backwards. My foot slipped off the wooden step and I fell back onto the tile, wincing at the pain shooting through my ankle. “Get up,” he slurred, pulling me up onto my feet. “I never said you could go upstairs,” he said, taking a swig of his alcohol.

“I’m tired. I had a long night.”

“Obviously, you look like hell.”

“Wow, thanks,” I said, pulling myself out of his grip. “Then let me sleep.”

He sighed an over-exaggerated sigh, his breath reeking of alcohol – only proving my previous assumption that he had already consumed quite a lot already, despite how early it was. “Fine. But you’re grounded.”

“What did I even do?” I shrieked, frustrated with my father’s drunken decision.

“You need to tell me where you are and when you’re coming home so I know you’re not kidnapped or dead somewhere.”

“Since when do you care where the fuck I am?”

“Watch your mouth young lady.”

I rolled my eyes and gave up the fight, knowing that I wouldn’t win no matter how hard I tried. It was basically routine: I did nothing wrong, he got drunk and angry, he grounded me, I fought back, I lost. Nothing was new.

I turned on my heel and stormed up the stairs to my room, locking the door behind me and throwing myself onto my bed, belly first. I looked to my left at the photos on my night stand, my eyes landing on one of me and my mother.