Carter Ortese is Trouble - completed (The Boys #1)

Chapter 30: Emma

It takes exactly one hundred and forty seven seconds for my father to close the door to the garage and make it to the threshold of my room. Exactly one hundred and forty seven seconds that I've counted from underneath the muggy cloth covering my eyes and blocking out the last rays of light from my retinas.

I am sick of being in pain. I am sick of feeling out of it. And now that Henry Williams's presence is taking up my doorway, I'm sick of him too.

"What?" I growl.

A low guttural laugh pushes out of his chest, which sounds a bit like a balloon rapidly deflating and the grunt of a baboon. I can imagine the look on his face. A small smirk that half borders a snarl, and wide nostrils flaring with frustration and anger, which is the only physical indication to show how annoyed he truly is. Despite being angry, Henry Williams rarely lets down the professional facade. He has to be in control.

"We raised you better than this."

"Better than what?" I take the cloth off of my eyes and sit up, glaring at him. If my glare could cut through diamonds, I wouldn't think twice about using it on him right now, slicing him up piece by piece. It's a morbid thought, but it still circulates in my brain. I've been pushed too far, and I'm done walking the line for them.

"Than this." He gestures to me simply and shrugs. "You look pathetic." We glare at each other for a few solid beats, mostly because he's rendered me speechless. I can't believe that a father would call his daughter pathetic. "Your school called me today. Something about your cutting class."

"That's because I did."

My answer makes him flinch back, creating a second chin for a mere second. Henry Williams shocked. Never thought I would see the day.

"Why?" He narrows his eyes, and without waiting for a response, he holds his hand up. "No reason is good enough to skip, Emma. You should be better than this. This is all because of that boy, isn't it?"

I roll my eyes so far back in my head that my ocular nerves hurt. "This is from you never listening to me."

"Is that what you think?" Henry Williams shakes his head, and he gives me a look that I can only describe as being full of pity. "We hear you, Emma. We know what you want, but what you want is irrelevant."

My mouth drops open.

"You see, when you're in high school, you make bad decisions, decisions run by passion and not logic. You'll understand someday. We're preparing you for a future, a successful one, not one run on dreams."

"But I'm good. I could have a future—" My voice comes out weak and halts to a stop. Anger rolls in my veins, spreading so far through my body that my headache winces out of existence.

"Also irrelevant. Only a minute percentage of people who fancy themselves artists ever make it, Emma. Most fail miserably. And worse still, most don't realize they are failures until it is too late to commit to something else. We hear you, but your desires are whimsical at best."

Whimsical at best. My heart rips open and blood gushes through the opening. My own father has destroyed me, rendered my heart inadequate. Despite being gutted, I force my chin up. "Then we have a vastly different definition of my life and my future." I stand up and approach him. I am toe to toe with my father, though a foot shorter. If he doesn't move, I am going to scream. I will lose my cool. I am not Henry Williams. I cannot say miserable things to other people without yelling. I cannot be a miserable human being and be calm at the same time.

"Get out of my way." The word 'please' almost escapes my lips, but I choke it back.

He frowns. "Where do you think you're going?"