Chapter 99

The night air was crisp as I made my way back home after our eventful day at the arcade.

I waved goodbye to Lucas who had dropped me off.

The entire evening still lingered in my mind, providing a warm contrast to the chilly evening. It always felt nice to hang out with friends and socialize. Seeing the small change in Lucas was enough to make me feel accomplished.

I walked up to my front door. The previous buzz of excitement was slowly being replaced with a quiet night of relaxation.

But as soon as I stepped inside my house, that anticipation was shattered.

The scene before me was like something out of a nightmare. Empty bottles of alcohol littered the floor, evidence of a chaotic frenzy. The furniture was overturned, and papers and belongings were strewn across the room like the aftermath of a storm.

It looked as if someone had broken into our house...

"Dad?" I called out, my voice tinged with concern.

I was pretty sure that my father was supposed to be working the night shift for Kendrick tonight.

Meaning this mess couldn't have come from him...

"Dad?" I called again. "Are you home?"

But my words echoed emptily through the ransacked space, and the only response was the unsettling silence that enveloped the house.

A sense of dread crept over me, and I moved cautiously through the mess, searching for any sign of my father. My heart raced as I made my way upstairs, my footsteps echoing in the hushed darkness.

I immediately pulled out my phone, deciding to dial Lucas's number just in case someone had broken in.

"Shana?" Lucas's voice carried over the speaker. "You okay?"

"Hey, do you think you could drive back to my place?" I asked, stopping at the top of the stairs. "Something's not right."

Lucas was silent for a beat before he said, "I'll be right there."

I hung up the phone and hesitantly made my way toward my father's room. His door was slightly ajar and the closer I got, the more of the room I could see.

I slowly pushed the door open and found my father sitting in the dimly lit room. The scene tore at my heart, making it almost difficult for me to breathe.

The air reeked of alcohol and my father's eyes were bloodshot and vacant. His hair was disheveled and his face was etched with exhaustion and frustration. His hands trembled as he looked down at his lap.

My eyes searched his room as I tried to piece together what was left of our once clean home.

What on earth had happened to him? I thought he was finally over this addiction.

I've never seen it this bad before. There were bottles all over the bed and floor... I was honestly concerned on whether or not I would need to take him to the hospital over how much he had clearly abused his body.

"Dad?" I asked carefully, trying to capture his attention.

My father finally looked up, his sad eyes meeting mine. "Shana. You're... home."

His voice sounded different, his words slurred together.

Before I could respond, my father's voice sliced through the air again, laced with bitterness and anger. "Shana! My daughter. She's finally home. The little troublemaker herself."

"Dad, what happened? Why are there empty bottles all over the place? And why does it reek of alcohol?" My jaw clenched, but I tried to keep my voice steady.

His laughter was bitter, a harsh sound that cut through the tension like a blade.

"You think I don't know what you've been up to?" he spat. "You and that Lucas kid, with your rebellion. Look where it's gotten us! Look where it's gotten me!"

I felt a surge of frustration, a desire to defend myself and Lucas. "Dad, it's not like that. I had no involvement in what happened with Lucas. He's just trying to do the right thing for himself and—"

"Do the right thing, huh? Well, I hope he knows that he's ruined everything! And you! You're the reason I fell back into this mess, into this addiction." His voice rose to a shout.

I knew he wasn't in the right frame of mind. His words were fueled by intense intoxication, but still, it hurt me. The accusation hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I was at a loss for words.

I thought about trying to reason with him and make him see that I wasn't the cause of his struggles, but I realized there would be no point. There was no use arguing with my father when he was like this.

"Dad, please," I spoke with my hands up, taking a few steps back when I noticed he went to stand. "Just calm down for a second. We can talk about this downstairs calmly."

"No, Shana. Kendrick fired me because of you! Because of you and Lucas! Don't you understand?" he shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at my face.

Suddenly, he grabbed an empty bottle from the bed and hurled it against the wall with a crash that reverberated through the room.

The glass shattered, and I felt a pang of fear.

I turned to run back downstairs.

My hands trembled as I reached for my phone, my fingers dialing Lucas's number almost automatically.

I knew he was already on his way, but I needed help... now.

With the phone pressed to my ear, I moved through the house, searching for something—anything—that could offer a sense of safety.

"Shana, I'm almost there." As the call connected, I heard Lucas's voice on the other end, concern lacing his words.

My voice trembled as I responded, "Lucas, I need you to listen..."

I placed the phone on speaker and held it close, ensuring that Lucas could hear every word, every crash, every tear in my father's voice.

"Shana!" my father shouted from upstairs as he stumbled around. "Where do you think you're going?"

I gripped the phone tightly, my heart racing as I navigated through the broken mess of our living room.

I heard my father starting to make his way down the stairs, and my heart beat faster.

When he made it to the bottom of the stairs, his eyes locked with mine and a smile took over. "Not so fast."

He ran for me and suddenly, something within me shifted.

When he placed his hands on me, attempting to throw me back, I turned the force back on him. He stumbled back, falling onto the hard floor.

I looked down at my hands, confused about where that had come from.

When I looked at my father, his eyes were wide with fear.

“Shana, what is wrong with your eyes?”

I blinked, confused by his question.

As he kept staring at me, the door burst open and a gust of fresh air swept through the room.

Lucas stood there and met my father's gaze with a steely resolve, his voice unwavering as he spoke. "Don't go near her!"

Then Lucas noticed me standing over my father, his face falling significantly.

“Shana…”

“I know.” I didn’t know what else to say.

While both of us were distracted, my father stood again. Lucas’s eyes snapped over in his direction.

"You don't get to treat her like this," Lucas's voice was firm, his eyes blazing with anger and protectiveness.

My father's gaze shifted between us, his anger giving way to uncertainty. "This is all your fault!"

My father tried to make a run toward me again, but Lucas stopped him, shoving him backward.

I watched as my father crashed against the floor. Again.

Except this time, he didn’t get up.

I realized that he had fallen unconscious.