Girl (completed)

9

   "Where were you last night?" My dad asked as soon as I came downstairs, and I rolled my eyes.
   "At the drive-in," I responded casually, hoping he would just drop it, but of course he didn't. He just kept pestering me about it.
"With?" He asked, and I got myself some bread and put it in the toaster.
  "John," I responded, and he glared at me.
  "I don't want you out that late, there is a curfew. It's 11 pm, and last night you weren't back until 2 in the morning!" He vented, and I rolled my eyes again.
"Dad, I was with John! You like John!" I countered, and Dad gave me a look of anger and disappointment. Just then, George walked into the kitchen and started making himself some corn flakes.
"I don't care! I don't like you being out that late!" He yelled, and I felt myself flustered. I wanted to rip out my hair, but he just wouldn't leave me be.
"Damn it! You're letting George go to Germany, but I stay out until 2 with John and you freak out!" I yelled, and I stormed towards the door.
"Blaire! We aren't done here!" He yelled, and I hastily put on my coat.
"I hate you!" I yelled, and I stormed out, slamming the door behind me. I walked down the street, and headed towards John's.
"Goddamn it! He just makes me so livid!" I fumed, pacing in front of John's couch as he sat, watching me.
"Blaire, calm down," he said, but I disregarded his command.
"I mean, George is going to Germany! Can you believe that?! It really just blows my fucking mind!" I yelled, and he stood up, kissing me abruptly. I gasped in shock as he kissed me passionately. He kissed me roughly, and then a bit softer, but still tenderly.
  When he pulled away, my eyes were wide, and he laughed a bit, "what the hell was that?" I asked, and he shrugged, sitting back down.
  "You wouldn't calm down," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I shook my head, and I felt butterflies in my stomach.
"Ugh, I do hate you Johnny boy!" I joked and he smiled.
"I hate you too, Blaire Bear!" He exclaimed loudly, and I cringed.
"Do not call me that!" I warned, and he smiled defiantly. Then he stuck out his tongue at me, and I furrowed my eyebrows.
"Or what?" He said, and I was still mortified at my childhood name. He had called me that for as long as I remember, and I'd always despised him for it.
   "Stop!" I whined, and he smirked.
   "Make me," he challenged, and I picked up a pillow from the couch and chucked it at him.
"Blaire bear!" He yelled, and I huffed.
"John Winston Lennon!" I yelled, and he laughed, running away from me and bounding up the stairs.
"Blaire Grace Harrison!" He yelled in return, and I went chasing after him. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and I went to get it.
   I opened it to see my dad standing there, looking livid.
   "Blaire, get your ass in the car, NOW!" He yelled, and I rolled my eyes. John appeared next to me in the doorway.
"Hello, Mr. Harrison," John said formally, and he stuck out his hand for my father to shake, but hesitantly withdrew when he didn't.
"Blaire, get in the car," my dad said sternly, and John interjected.
"Well hold on, Mr. Harrison, maybe we can talk about this?" John suggested, and my father stared daggers into him.
  "Yes, I believe we can. Stay away from my daughter. I can tell that you're trouble, and the only reason my son is in your make-shift band is because my wife is so adamant on the subject," my father said rudely, and I was mortified.
"Dad!" I gasped, and my father grabbed my arm roughly, pulling me outside.
"I don't want you to be associated with this... garbage," my father said, and I could see John's face fall. It was obvious that my dad's words had insulted him, and that he was hurt.
  When my dad dragged me to the car, John slowly shut the door, and I wished that the ground would open up and swallow me whole. I had never been that embarrassed in my entire life.
   "Dad! Why would you do that?!" I asked, and he turned to me in genuine shock.
  "Does that teddy boy really mean anything to you?" He said with a laugh, and I was appalled at the way he was treating John.
  "Yes! Can't you see that he's more than just a teddy boy?! He isn't trash, dad! He's smart, and funny, and he's so sweet," I reasoned, but my dad shook his head.
  "God, I always thought you were smarter than that, Blaire. I'm truly appalled at your recent behavior," my dad said, and my jaw dropped.
"I can't live like this, Dad! I hate that you control me! That you try to manipulate me!" I said, and the tears began to flow. My dad never was very good with the emotion stuff, so he just turned towards the road and began to drive. I looked out of the window, and I couldn't stop seeing how hurt John's face was when we left.
It ate me up inside to see him like that. I also thought about how my dad had raised his hand to my mom. When I was younger, he never really knew how to express his anger, so he would sometimes hit me. It would only happen very occasionally, but one day it got bad.
"Dad?" I called, and he stumbled in through the front door, collapsing onto the couch.
  "Blaire, get me a beer," he ordered, and I bit my cheek. I was only twelve, but he seemed to be really buzzed already.
  "I think you've had enough," I said cheekily, and he looked at me with a sudden rage.
  He raised his hand to me, and I cowered, bracing myself for contact. I felt his fist strike my eye, and I yelped out from the pain.
He continued to hit me, and I finally ran away from him. I ran into my room, and locked the door. Luckily, he didn't follow me, and I cried myself to sleep that night.
•••
Well her past is quite sad...