Brightburn: Obsessed

First

Warning: Unsettling or disturbing themes
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Valerie sat at the dining table with her father. Plain eggs and bacon staring back at her as she moved the food on her plate.

This morning was certainly confusing. Her father was dressed in freshly ironed clothes. He cooked breakfast. The house was clean. He was clean shaven.

"So how has school been."

Valerie flinched at the sound of his voice. It lacked the malice that she had become accustomed to. His steely brown eyes made her green ones dart away,

"Umm, it's been...good, I guess."

"Just good?" He probed.

"Uh, yeah. Lots of homework to get done." Valerie nodded. Her fingers twisted in her grasp.

"Well, I wanted to tell you after. But...it's too exciting to pass up. I have an interview tomorrow." He smiled.

There it was. That inner malice peaking through his facade. Valerie gave him a small, nervous smile,

"Good job dad. I'm happy for you." It was genuine. He needed this. And they needed the money, Valerie readjusted her seat and decided to break the news to him, "I'm...I'm going to Homecoming tomorrow."

Mr. Puckett sat up straighter and his eyes turned to slits.

"And who are you planning on going with?"

Valerie didn't skip a beat, "Brandon."

Mr. Puckett wiped his mouth with a napkin. His body oozing irritation. He actually huffed out a laugh, as if he couldn't believe his ears.

"I put a roof over your head, I'm the reason you have clothes to wear, I make you breakfast, get a job and you're still thinking about that pencil neck."

"Don't call him that." Valerie furrowed her brows.

"What does he have that I don't?"

Valerie's head shook in complete confusion. Why was he talking to her like this?

"You need to realize that I'm the only man you need in your life. I'm not going to let some pencil necked fuck take you away from me." He leaned forward, gripping his fork so hard that his knuckles were red.

Valerie scoffed. She should have known this was going to dip back into his disgusting ways. "First of all, I'm your daughter, not your wife. And Brandon is not a pencil neck. He's one hundred times the man you'll ever be."

"Shut your fucking mouth,"

"And mom would never,"

Mr. Puckett slammed his fist on the table at the mention of his late wife. Valerie shot out of her seat.

"Your mother shouldn't have kicked the god-damn bucket!!" He screamed at Valerie as he pointed a rigid finger at her. "You owe me! I raised your ungrateful ass and now you owe me!"

"Calm down." She said softly. Trying to put as much sympathy in her voice as she could.

Mr. Puckett curled his finger until his hand was balled into a tight fist, his fiery brown eyes now empty and black. As if he wasn't looking at his daughter. As if she were someone else entirely.

"Take off your clothes." He bit out.

"Excuse me?" Valerie said. She must have heard him wrong. He didn't just say what she though he just said, right?

"I bought those clothes and I want you to take them off."

"Dad..."

"I said, TAKE THEM OFF!"