Hopelessly Falling [book 2]

Chapter Fourty-Eight

XLVIII
•••

Eli's POV ***

[flashback]

        My room was cold when I lowered myself in through the window, as I had countless times before. Only this time it was different. The sad nostalgia as I flicked the light on and gazed around my room was quickly pushed aside by the need to find my money. I walked to my bed and opened the miniature safe that I had always kept under there with emergency money.

But it was empty.

I swore under my breath as I looked at a few other places, none of them having my money. I swore again, this time louder. My hands ran through my hair as I let out an exasperated sigh.

I knew what I had to do, I just wasn't expecting to be having to do it tonight. But oh well, such is life..

I gave Layla a quick call, and then with a deep breath I opened my door. My dads voice could be heard coming from downstairs, and it sounded like he was on the phone in his study. Swallowing my nerves, I plastered on a grin and entered.

There were a bunch of papers sprawled out on his dark brown desk, his feet up, and black coffee in front of him. He didn't notice me at first due to the fact that he was distracted by whatever businessman he was exchanging empty pleasantries with over the phone. When he did notice me, though, he startled a bit and then glared. I winked at him.

"You might want to hang that up, now," I told him, some threat behind my words. I didn't know exactly what that threat was, but I acted like I did.

"I'm sorry, I'm going to have to call you back later, Mark. My son hurt himself pretty bad just now and I have to help him out real quick, my apologies," he glared up at me, said goodbye after the guy replied, and hung up. "What the fuck is your ass doing here?"

"Love ya too, dad," I greeted him back, stepping a bit closer to his desk. He stood up, but I tilted my head with a knowing look to warn him not to move closer. He still had a few bruises that hadn't fully faded away yet from our last encounter.

It had been the first time I'd ever gone after him- and succeeded, at least. And damn did it feel good.

"You have 30 seconds to get out of here before I-"

"Before you what, exactly?" I crossed my arms, and he clenched his jaw. "I'm not here to fight, although it would be fun to kick your ass again," I started, glancing around the room to see if my money was lying anywhere. It wasn't.

"What do you want, son?"

"To be able to never hear you call me that again," I returned my gaze to his. "And there's one way that's going to happen. We can get off of each other's backs for good."

I didn't show it, but it broke my heart to say that. Even after all the shit he did to me, those eyes were the only fatherly eyes I had ever known. They were the ones that played catch with me when I was little, and taught me how to finance with a little kid's cash register. But in the end of the day, they were the ones that stared down at me as I was being bloodied up. And I couldn't let myself excuse that because of the times that he had felt like being an actual father.

It still hurt, though.

"I'm gonna ask you this one more time, what do you w-"

"Money, you dipshit," I responded, and his face grew redder.

"A son shouldn't talk to his father like that."

"Well then it's a good thing there isn't a father or son here, isn't it?" I glared. "Listen, just give me enough money that I never have to talk to you or mom ever again, and we'll call it a day. Well call it a life, actually."