TRIGGER WARNING- DO NOT READ IF UNCOMFORTABLE
There’s abuse, do not read if you’re uncomfortable with it.
A.N.- I hope this is what you wanted anon! And I’m so freaking sorry it’s taken forever, but I’m yearbook editor this year and I’ve had a pile of work to do that’s bigger than me! I really hope you like it. But side note, if anyone is dealing with something like this, no matter how busy I am, talk to me, because I will make time to help anyone who needs it. I love you all and you can always talk to me.
“YOU THINK I’M OKAY WITH YOU DRESSING LIKE THIS?!” (Y/B/F) yelled at me for the thousandth time. I sighed and rolled my sleeves down. I looked at my denim jeans and a sweater.
“What’s wrong with it?” I asked quietly. I mentally braced myself for the next slap or the next punch, whichever one he’s feeling like today.
“It’s a thousand degrees outside, people are going to think you’re suicidal!” He roared.
“It’s 45 degrees outside!” I yelled, defending myself. But the second I said it, I realized what I actually had said. And when I did, I felt his fist collide with my cheek.
“I do this because you deserve it.” He spat, and walked out of his house. I sat there, on the floor, blood running down my face and a bruise forming. I started to clean everything up before his parents came home, so they didn’t suspect anything. I heard a car start and I knew he was leaving. A weight lifted off my shoulders, and as it did so my phone buzzed. It was my dad, Vic Fuentes.
Hey sweetheart- I made pizza so whenever you’re ready come on home! J
I smiled. My dad, even though he may always been on tour, is one of the best dads in the world. I sighed, yet again, and tried to conceal the bruise on my face. After dating (y/b/f) for almost a year, I knew to always bring concealer with me whenever I go to see him. When I first met him, he was amazing. Always bringing me flowers to school, taking me on amazing dates. But the second we became seniors, he changed completely. Always flirting with other girls, blowing me off, and yes, beating me.
After I finished fixing the house and my face, I hopped in my car and headed home. Whenever dad makes pizza, he makes it like he’s Italian. It tastes amazing, so I sped home as fast as I could to get some before the boys ate it all. I parked outside my house and ran inside to get food.
“YOU GUYS BETTER HAVE SAVED ME SOME!” I yelled, running into the kitchen. Everyone turned around to look at me. Mike, Tony, Jaime, and my dad all waved. I smiled and waved, but they weren’t smiling.
“(Y/N), you were just at (y/b/f)’s house, right?” Jaime asked, slowly. I nodded, starting to get nervous. I put my hand to my face as a reflex, but I knew I blew my cover.
“Guys, come back tomorrow, we can practice then.” My dad said, and the guys all quickly shuffled out. I looked at my hand and saw that there was fresh blood. And I could feel the bruise now. The guys had left the house, and I listened to their cars leave one by one.
“(Y/N), honey.” My dad said, tears slipping down his face. He took my cheek in his hand, and rubbed his thumb against my bruise. I winced. “Is that boy hitting you? Please, tell me the truth.”
“No, I ran into a-“ I started to make an excuse, but I saw the hurt in his eyes. I knew my dad would probably kill him, but I can’t live like this anymore. “Yes.” I whispered. The hurt in his eyes quickly turned to anger, and I knew he was about to kill him.
“In the car, now.” He said, his voice monotone. I nodded and we both walked to the car.
“You’re about to kill him, aren’t you?” I said, uneasily. He didn’t answer me, but he started to speed down the highway to his house.
When we got there I saw that all the cars where in the driveway, which meant everyone was home. My dad stopped the car and turned to look at me. I was staring out the window, crying.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.” I said finally, turning to look at him.
“You don’t need to apologize for anything. You are a princess, and he’s a monster. And we’re about to go defeat that monster. This isn’t going to be pretty, but I’m not letting that bastard getting away with beating my only daughter. Come on, let’s go finish this.” He said. I smiled at him and hugged him as tight as I could.
“I love you daddy.” I whispered, and he kissed the top of my head. We both got out of the car and walked up the front door. My dad rang the doorbell, and I was fiddling with my sleeves. (Y/B/F/)’s mother opened the door and smiled, but then she looked at me.
“Oh, (Y/N), honey! What happened, is everything okay?” She asked. Dad cleared his throat and she looked at him.
“Your son happened, ma’am.” My dad said, his voice stern. His mother’s face turned from concerned to mortified.
“(Y/B/F) GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW.” She yelled. I winced, and she shot me an apologetic look.
“What?” He asked, but then he saw me. His face froze.
“You little bitch!” He yelled, and lunged at me, but my dad got to him first and shoved him out of the way, he landed on the floor with a thud.
“Sorry.” Dad mumbled to his mother, but she shook her head.
“Don’t apologize.” She said, and pulled him up by the arm. “You hit her? You hit this beautiful, wonderful girl? You’re a disgrace to this family!” She screamed, and then his dad walked over.
“You hit (Y/N)?!” He screamed, and his mother nodded. “If you would excuse us, guys, I think it’s time we have a, uh, talk, with our son. (Y/N), consider you two over, and you never have to worry about him again.” His dad said, and I smiled.
“Thank you.” I whispered and his dad smiled and ruffled my hair.
“Thanks.” My dad said, and then he glared at my, now ex, boyfriend. (Y/B/F) slammed the door shut, and dad and I started walking to the car.
“Thanks dad.” I said, and he turned to look at me.
“I don’t care who it is, if anyone is hurting you, you tell me. Okay?” he asked, and I nodded. He opened his arms up and I ran to hug him. We tried to squeeze the life out of each other, and we both laughed. I smiled and hugged him tighter.
“I love you, daddy.” I whispered into his chest.
“I love you more, kiddo. I love you way more.” He replied, and he rested his head on top of mine.