Page 67 of Prince of Pain
“You’re so goddamn lucky to have two parents who give a shit about you. Go make sure your mom’s okay,” he grunted, pulling my keys out of thin air and tossing them at me. They hit my chest harder than necessary, and I ignored the amused smirk from Channing as I stood.
“Fuck you, Mason. You don’t know me.”
Wolfe scoffed, giving me a dirty look. “I’d say he knows you pretty well. Entitled princess with daddy issues and a drug problem. Sums it up easily.”
I intended on beating him over the head with a chair, but Ryder clicked his fingers at me to draw my attention while still listening to his mother on the phone. “Get in the fucking car and go home. Zero tantrums this morning, I mean it.”
“Fuck you too, Ry,” I growled, stalking towards the door and making sure to slam it on the way out.
It was way too early for this shit. I needed caffeine.
I headed to the diner, buying a coffee with an extra shot to try and wake myself up more, then I took my time driving home. Dad would yell at me no matter when I got there, so delaying it was a good option in my mind.
Mom had probably broken her own fucking wrist to try and pin it on me.
I didn’t have the gas to drive around all day, so I admitted defeat and pulled into the driveway, turned the engine off, and just sat there enjoying the silence for a second before climbing out to head inside.
I’d barely closed the front door when Dad appeared in front of me.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
“Out.”
“Get in the kitchen,” he demanded, waiting for me to do as I was told before following me.
Mom was sitting at the table drinking coffee, her wrist in a cast and her eyes staring at the table.
I sat down, sipping my coffee and staring at her, waiting for her to look up at me. When she didn’t, I snorted. “Not even going to look at me?”
“Tempest, things can’t continue like this,” Dad said firmly, placing his hands on the table as he moved to stand beside Mom, leaning forward to hold my gaze. “We’re not putting up with this shit anymore.”
“What shit? I didn’t do anything. She probably did that to herself. Is it broken, or did you need surgery for all the hand jobs you’ve?—”
“Enough!” Dad barked, cutting me off. “We’re done, Tempest. Punishing you makes you worse, trying to help you makes it worse, and ignoring it obviously doesn’t do jack shit either. You’re going to rehab and that’s final.”
I laughed, leaning back in my chair. “No, I’m not.”
He stared at me silently for a few seconds before shaking his head and standing up straight again. “You either go to rehab, or you get out. You’ve trashed half the house from tantrums, hurt your sister, and now you’ve hurt your mother. You need help.”
“No, I fucking don’t!” I threw back. “I’m just having fun and you’re trying to stop me!”
“You call this fun?” He did something on his phone before turning the screen to face me, finding a video of me being carried out of Channing’s party by Ryder the other night, blood all over both of us and my makeup running down my cheeks. “Not only are you slowly killing yourself, you’re dragging Ryder into that environment after he’s done so well to get sober. He shouldn’t be chasing you around, trying to keep you safe.”
“You’re just kicking me out and wiping your hands clean of me then?” I asked bitterly, making Mom finally look at me.
“No. You can go to rehab and get help.”
“I’m not going to fucking rehab, Mom. I’d rather leave this shithole and do my own thing without you guys trying to ruin it.”
“Fine,” Dad replied sharply, motioning to the hallway. “Go pack your shit.”
“You can’t make me.”
“No?” he huffed, stalking towards my bedroom and giving me no choice but to scramble after him. He grabbed bags out of the closet and started stuffing my clothes into them, emptying my bedside table drawers straight into a bag too.
“Dad! What the fuck?”
“I mean it, Tempest. You either get help or you leave. I won’t have your sister or mother living with you if you’re going to continue hurting people.”