Rescue ▶▶A Hunter Hayes Faniction◀◀

SEVEN

Dad’s having another dinner party tonight, but instead of kicking us out of the house, he’s having us stay to serve everyone. Haley and I are currently at the store downtown, picking up groceries for the meal. Dad gave me a fake I.D. so I can buy some alcoholic drinks for himself and his friends. We buy all the things needed for a fancy and classic dinner of chicken parmesan with the sides of green beans and garlic bread.

As we’re lugging the heavy bags out of the store and towards home, Haley’s phone goes off. She huffs in annoyance since she can’t reach it in her back pocket with the bags hanging from her arms and hands. I roll my eyes.

“Here, hand me a bag.”

She raises her brow. “Your hands are full.”

I shrug. “That’s true, but you can also just set one down real fast to check to see what Jonathan texted you.”

Haley’s face turns red. “Whatever,” she mutters, placing a bag onto the ground before taking out her phone. Her face lights up.

I give her a smug look. “It’s Jonathan.”

She elbows me in the stomach. A pain sears through my ribs and I gasp in pain. Haley’s eyes widen. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” I say with a strained smile.

Haley frowns. “What happened? Is it also because of Dad?”

“Stop worrying about it,” I tell her. “Come on, let’s just get home so we can get started on dinner.”

She picks up her bags after putting her phone back into her back pocket. She mutters, “Yeah, let’s get started on a dinner we won’t even be able to eat.”

-

The dinner party starts with a few people dressed in fancy attire. Since Haley and I are wearing our casual clothes (what we wore to school) Dad has us change. He makes us wear fancy dresses; Haley’s is black and reaches her knees. Mine is black and cuts off right above my knees. We also have to tie our hair back into tight buns since our hair is a mess.

Once the party starts to kick off and everyone is seated or is standing around while sipping wine and whiskey, Haley and I meander around, filling empty glasses. We do this until it’s time to eat. We serve the chicken parmesan to everyone and offer the sides. Not one adult who is attending the party says “Thank you” or is nicely. They’re all stuck-up. As the evening fades into night, everyone starts to get a little tipsy. They’re laughing louder and talking louder. Dad is probably the most drunk out of everyone. He keeps asking for refill after refill. Not wanting to be punished, Haley and I obey.

Haley and I don’t get any breaks. We’re constantly being hollered at for a refill or for something else. Both of us are sweaty messes; out hair is falling out of their buns and our foreheads are glistening. My armpits are damp with sweat. I’m positive that I smell like a gym.

At about two in the morning, people start to leave. Even though they’re heavily intoxicated, they drive. It makes me sick to my stomach knowing that they could possibly end lives tonight while driving after drinking.

As Haley and I start to clean up the trashed house, I see Dad pull a woman into his bedroom.

Haley starts throwing away trash as I collect empty bottles and glasses. As I’m picking up a broken glass from the floor, the sharp edge pricks the palm of my hand. Blood squirts out of the small cut. I quickly wrap a kleenex around it, secure it, then continue cleaning up. By the time Haley and I are almost finished it’s already four in the morning. Since we have school in just a few hours, I send Haley to bed. She doesn't protest. I finish cleaning up although I’m extremely exhausted and my feet hurt from standing and walking around the entire night. I desperately yearn for the comfort of my soft bed.

I eventually finish cleaning, but the sun has started to rise. I glance at the clock. Another hour until school starts.

I groan and trudge up the stairs into my room, then turn the light on. Haley wakes up slowly, yawning and stretching.

“Turn it back off,” she groans, burying her head into her pillow.

“It’s Friday, you can sleep in tomorrow if Dad doesn’t have any more plans for us,” I say. I walk over to our closet and take out a random sweatshirt and jeans. I throw them on quickly after tearing out of the tight black dress. Haley sits up and stretches her arms out before walking over and taking out her nice flowy summer dress that she wore for Easter this year.

“Do you think Jonathan would like this?”

I roll my eyes. “Does it really matter?” When she doesn’t respond, I sigh. “Fine, yes. He’ll love it on you.”

Haley grins, then slips the dress on. She stands in front of the mirror. “Does it make me look fat?” She turns, scrutinizing every angle of herself.

“Haley, you look perfect. Beautiful. Fantastic. Don’t worry what Jonathan or any guy thinks of you.”

She nods. “Okay.”

I leave the room with Haley by my side. We reach the kitchen together and I start to make us eggs. However, as I’m setting the cooked eggs onto a plate, Dad and the woman from last night appear from around the corner. Their clothes are wrinkled and their hair is messed up. Dad’s arm is hung loosely around her waist.

Dad eyes the eggs and takes the plate. Haley scowls. “That was ours-”

Dad cuts her off by smacking her across the face. A loud smack echoes off the walls. Tears well up in Haley’s eyes as her cheek grows red where Dad hit her.

I quickly stand by Haley’s side, a little in front of her to protect her just in case Dad tries to strike her again.

Dad laughs at our reactions. “You girls are actin’ like I ain’t never punished y’all before.” The woman beside him cackles along with him.

“Funny, funny, pathetic daughters you have, Mike.”

Dad leans down and pecks the woman on the lips. “You’ve got that right, Malenda.” He straightens up and looks at me. “Give me the pepper.”

It takes me a second to realize that he’s talking about pepper for his eggs. I step over to it and take the pepper shaker. I hand it to Dad. He grunts as a thanks (at least that’s how I’m taking it) and he and Malenda stagger back into the bedroom.

“I hate him,” Haley spits, glaring at the door he disappeared behind.

I look down at her, smoothing her hair out of her eyes. “Hate’s a pretty strong word. He’s our Dad; he provides for us. We can’t hate him, but we can hate some of his actions.”