17
BIANCA
The next evening, I was in the passenger seat of Easton’s car, pulling up to my parents’ home. Through the living room window, I could see my parents’ silhouettes. By their hand motions, they were arguing again, even though I couldn’t make out what was being said.
Easton parked in their driveway and shut off the engine. Silence fell between us as we sat there, staring at the house before us. My childhood home, which had been filled with some bittersweet memories and was now tainted by the toxicity of my parents’ desire for power and my father’s indiscretions.
I took a shaky breath, and Easton reached over and grabbed my hand, sensing the turmoil that was going through me. I held on to his as if it was my only hope of surviving. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered.
“You can do this, and you don’t have to go in there alone,” he said softly. “I’ll go in there with you.”
“I think this is something I need to take care of alone.”
“Then I’ll wait out here for you.”
“Are you sure?”
Easton turned and looked at me. “Of course I am.”
“Thank you.”
I stepped out of the car before he could respond and shifted into the cool night air. I closed the car door behind me before I walked toward the house. Was I ready to confront whatever was happening inside? No, but I was still going to do this.
I used my key to unlock the front door and walked inside to find my parents in the living room, as expected. But the sight before me was somewhat shocking, to say the least.
Dad was disheveled in a way I’d never seen him before. His bloodshot eyes were narrowed in anger. An empty bottle of whiskey sat on the coffee table beside him.
Mom looked worse for wear as well. Her makeup was smeared under her eyes from what I assumed was from crying.
She looked over at me before she threw her hands up and yelled, “How could you fucking do this to me? After everything I’ve done for you! The sacrifices I made so that you could succeed and make your dream a reality. This is how you repay me?”
“Oh, spare me the martyr act,” Dad scoffed, words slightly slurred. “You’ve never sacrificed or wanted for anything since I married you.”
I flinched at the venom in his tone. They were at each other’s throats, tearing apart at the seams.
I was the cause of this. I was the reason why the facade that we put out into the world had been shattered and ripped to shreds.
While there was some guilt still, there was something else there as well. Peace. I was at peace with what I’d done.
I cleared my throat, stepping farther into the room. “Mom. Dad. Stop.”
Dad still hadn’t noticed I was there even after I spoke, but Mom was more than aware.
Mom grabbed a vase from one of her end tables and threw it. It went flying across the room in my father’s direction. He managed to dodge it, and the vase shattered against the wall. I immediately recognized it as the vase my mother had told me they’d received as a wedding gift.
“Hey! I fucking said to stop!” I shouted, tired of the scene unfolding in front of me.
They both froze in place, and it took a few more seconds before they both turned to face me. Shock flickered over their faces before they looked away from me and each other.
Silence filled the room, and I was grateful for it. It helped lessen the tension vibrating between the two of them and gave me an opportunity to think.
I shook my head as I took in the scene before me. “How did we get here?” I whispered. “When did our family fall apart?”
My father’s jaw clenched, but he refused to look at me. However, my mother lifted her gaze to meet mine as tears fell down her cheeks.
It was obvious how much she was hurting, and even after all she’d done to me, I was hurting in a way too.
“Dad, why don’t you cool off in your office?”