25 - "Get out of there if you don't feel safe."

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Chapter 26 will also be up xx

"What the—"

My dad had always been a cautious man. One might say too cautious. He made sure the door was locked more times than necessary. He obsessed over the order of his files, the way his office looked. My father was not one to let his guard down, even when drunk.

Yet here I am, standing before my wide-open front door. The way the flywire flaps in the wind sends an eerie chill down my spine. It was so usual to see it opened at all without it being closed straight away.

My night had already been filled with enough conflict to last me the summer. I didn't need to fight with my dad about letting his guard down now too.

Ryan's confession had played around my head the entire walk home, making me clench my teeth. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. How dare he tell me he loved me now. And was it even true? Or was it just simply another ploy to make me stay away from Rhys?

I trudge up to my front steps, watching the long crack in the concrete that leads towards the door. I'd inherited my mother's superstitious nature. She'd always warned me against stepping on cracks in the pavement. I wish she'd warned me about what would occur once she disappeared. On how it would be best to continue coping.

I brace my hand against the door as I enter, my senses on high alert. I don't like the silence that engulfs me or the way I feel a slight tremble tamper at my arms as I walk in.

Marcus's warning growls in my mind, turning my stomach. "Dad?" I call into the void, my head swivelling back and forth as I enter.

I'm not surprised when he doesn't enter, knowing that he was likely too drunk.

"Dad?" I call again, louder this time. I check the time on my phone, noting that it was past midnight. He was either passed out in the backyard or upstairs in his room, probably sleeping on the floor.

I close the door behind me with a soft click, cringing from even the smallest of sounds. I don't know why I feel so cold, but I don't like it.

I shuffle towards the kitchen, noting the light that hadn't been switched off. I don't bother counting the endless amount of beer cans strewn across and in the sink.

My hand fumbles for the handle of the backdoor, opening it softly. Dad wasn't out on his usual chair, but that didn't deter me from stepping into the garden.

"Dad? You out here?" I call, barely heard over the loud sound of the ocean.

I let the grass brush against my ankles, reminding myself to mow soon. Dad clearly wouldn't.

I didn't know if he could get any worse, but I felt as if he was slipping away entirely. Sometimes, I wished that summer would never come, just so I knew he would be busy working all day and too tired to even speak at night. Without work, it was as if he had no purpose. Like when he wasn't busy, he suddenly realised that mum wasn't in our lives anymore.

The sand squelches under my feet as I make it past my garden. I was nearly on the beach now but I already know he isn't out there. The darkness swallows the sky, the sea and the air. I can feel my heart beating faster.

I turn my back on the water, walking briskly to get back inside. My phone begins to vibrate in my pocket. I answer it when I realise that it's just Tea.

"Hey," I breath, softly.

"You left without— is everything alright?" she says suddenly, like she's noticed the tone of my voice.

"I don't— I don't know," I answer honestly. "My front door was left wide open."

"CeCe," Tea whispers harshly. I hear voices on the other end, the boys speaking nearby. "Get out of there if you don't feel safe."

"I've gotta find dad first," I say, pulling on the handle of the backdoor.

"No, you don't. You need to get out—"

"I'll call you back soon," I promise, hanging up before she can argue any further with me.

I turn off the kitchen light, illuminating the walls with the torch on my phone as I guide myself down the hall, towards dad's room.

His door is open entirely, the curtains drawn. I step into his empty room, frowning at the unmade bed. There are a few empty cans in here too. The small box TV he kept on his dresser was playing an old football game, the volume muted.

He wasn't in here either. Where the fuck—

I suddenly hear a high-pitched gurgle coming from behind me, sounding from the bathroom. I rush back down the hallway, my eyes wide. When I slam the closed door open, there he is, leaning over the sink.

Our eyes meet in the mirror and I gasp. I'd seen him drunk countless times. Eyes bloodshot, drooping, glazed expression. But this— this isn't right.

"Cor—" before dad can finish, he fumbles to lean over the sink, vomiting.

I hold back my gag, locating some toilet paper to hand to him. His shaky fingers grasp the paper from mine.

In all the years that I had known my father, he'd always been one to hold his own. I'd never seen him vomit from alcohol. I'd never had to clean it up the next day or watch him as he was now, shaking violently, clutching at his stomach.

He gasps, looking up at me in the mirror. "Corrie, can you—"

Again, his head is back in the sink, emptying his stomach. I don't let my eyes travel down to the content. Instead, I focus on rubbing his back soothingly, watching my expression in the mirror.

The dark circles under my eyes hadn't been there yesterday. My brown skin looks almost ashen, mirroing my dirty brown locks. My blue eyes look warn and tired, like the dark void of the ocean, dangerous and cold.

Dad grunts, doubling over. He gasps again, a gurgle sounding from his throat.

"Dad," I say in alarm, helping him sit beside the toilet. "What the hell—"

He's breathing suddenly increases, his teeth gritting together.

"Dad!" I shout at him, kneeling to clasp his face. I blanch, his clammy skin dampening my hands. He could barely keep his eyes open.

"Hey," I shake him awake, but his eyes don't open. "Hey, dad. Open your eyes."

He slumps back against the wall, leaning towards the toilet. "Dad," I shout, shaking his shoulders.

His head slumps forward and his body falls to the floor, his arms splayed out in front of him.

"Dad?" I whisper, shaking him again. "Dad?"

When he doesn't respond, I feel for his pulse. He was barely breathing and he was completely unresponsive to me.

I go to shake him again, my hands trembling. "DAD!"

I reach for my phone, cursing as I fumble over the phone number to call emergency services.

"Calm down, Cora! Calm the fuck down!" I scream at myself, waiting for the call to connect.

I watch my dad, slumped against the floor, unresponsive. I feel the tears pooling in my eyes as the line connects, wondering if I was about to lose another parent.

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