My jaw clenches in anger and I clench and unclench my fists as the Mustang pulls up at the curb. As the door silently opens, I step back instinctively, and I try to relax my hands. Don't show fear, I think, my thoughts seeming to echo in my attempt to keep calm.
My pulse speeds up as he steps out of the car. I gulp. There he is. My father.
Six feet four, he towers over me. His dark brown eyes are hidden behind Christian Loubotin shades, his brown hair tousled somewhat by the unruly wind. He looks down at me and an amused smirk plays on his lips. "Well, well. No time, no see, Rose." Anger broils inside me, heating my blood and making my cheeks heat. "Hi, Dad."

---

"How could you be here?" I shout angrily as we step inside the cool kitchen. Luckily, Mom is at work, so she doesn't have to witness our fight. "Figured I might as well come back and check up on you two." He replies, sitting down in a chair and putting his feet up like nobody's business. Again, my anger flares. "You have no right to be here." I warn, my voice low and angry. His eyes are amused. "But I came back to see you two." "Get out." I snap, and stomp to my room.

---

Memories haunt me as I lay on my bed in the soft, warm black. I close my eyes, the movie replaying in my head: Dad getting his movie deal, his fight with Mom, him walking out. I seethe silently, listening quietly to the near muted conversation beyond my door. Why did he have to come back? We were just fine without him.