Chapter Text
Fredrick Chase sat idly in his car, thick brows scrunched together in thought, thumbs drumming against the steering wheel, as he debated whether or not he should go into the police station.
Logically, he knew he should go in there; that's what fathers were meant to do, help their children. Right their wrongs. Move heaven and earth for them. However, anger had turned his legs to stone.
His daughter had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Wealth, status, and opportunities were all tools in her arsenal that he had provided her with. She had it all. So, there were no excuses for her behavior—the lying, sulking, and disrespect. It had been increasing as of late, and frankly, he was growing tired of it.
Of her.
It wasn't acceptable to be a defiant, insolent prima donna, especially in the Chase household. And yet each day she pushed the boundaries of what it meant to be a Chase. Finally, he believed he had reached a tipping point.
Actions had consequences, he’d always told her. It seemed it was time for her to learn that the hard way. It was time for a reality check; the real world wouldn’t put up with this behavior, so why should he?
Most likely, it wouldn’t even be that bad—just a slap on the wrist and some community service, which would do her some good.
However, he thought, rubbing at his temples, if he were to go that route, it would surely leave a blemish on her permanent record. Then, it would become nearly impossible for her to follow in his footsteps and go to Harvard. Ivy Leagues weren’t in the habit of giving out acceptance letters to delinquents.
Plus, what would others think if they found out? Anything to do with Annabeth was already hot gossip, considering she was a walking-talking source of drama for the small gated community. Having to go to court would not stay under wraps for long and would spread like wildfire throughout the community. It would bring about a lot of questions, ones that he wasn’t prepared to answer. Ones that could possibly call into question his own character.
It was a tricky path to navigate, so, like in every complicated situation, he came up with a pros and cons list.
Then another, and another, until eventually, he felt as if he was getting a headache, heat building inside of him as anger once again took hold. He counted up to 30, then down by numbers divisible by 3, before letting out a strained sigh. Anger, he realized, was becoming his greatest weakness and clouding his judgment. While scaring his daughter into obedience didn’t sound that bad, he knew it wasn’t a surefire course of action.
Quickly, he shook his head, clearing his mind of all prejudice about the situation. Scratching at the stubble growing on his typically clean-shaven face, he began to formulate a real plan of action, one that would draw a line in the sand, but still teach her the error of her ways. Annabeth was a smart girl who knew when to pick and choose her battles. It was time she realized this war she was waging was a losing one.
As last night’s events replayed in his mind, he began to understand what was necessary.
~0~
Fredrick wasn’t a particularly observant man, but even someone as oblivious as he could tell something was wrong when he made his way into his home. He could see it in the tension in Susan’s shoulders as she hunched over the stove making dinner, in the way the boys played too nicely together, and in the deafening silence in the normally melodic home.
There was only one possible culprit. The only one not in his line of sight. He let out a small huff and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was too early for this. It would be too easy to have a good night. “Where is she?”
“Where do you think?” Susan snapped as she turned around violently, holding the wooden spoon she had been using like a weapon between them. “That girl of yours is a menace, Fredrick! Guess what she did today!”
Before he had the chance to think of anything or respond, his wife was already continuing her rant, counting off on her fingers a long list of offenses and perceived slights.
“-talked back to me all morning, threw out her lunch again, didn’t bother telling me that she was tutoring someone, thereby leaving Bobby and Mathew stranded at school, told me to shut up, and don’t get me started on her general demeanor and attitude-”
He allowed her to finish her tirade, but most of the words didn’t stick. They were angry mutterings that he had already heard many times. Words like' stubborn,’ ‘ingrate,’ and ‘our household, our rules’ were flung about. It was just out of love for his wife that he simply nodded along in order to validate her opinions before turning to go and address his daughter’s behavior.
He’d decided that he would be stern. There was no more Mr. Nice Guy. It was about time that he laid down the law, telling her that this was to be the last time her behavior would be tolerated. If she was able to conduct herself at school, there was no reason she couldn’t here as well. It was time to not only be a productive member of society but also of this family. This act of disdain she put on around them had to go. He would set her straight and then force her to eat dinner with them as a family.
Opening the door to her room, he felt his eye twitch at the sight of the disaster before him. The floor was littered with maps with Cambridge, Massachusetts, circled, books on Greek mythology, and early concept sketches of buildings. It was like a mad woman's den. Still, there was no sight of Annabeth.
He was just about to search elsewhere when he heard the unmistakable sound of water running in her adjoining bathroom. Carefully, he made his way around the obstacles before barging into the room without thinking.
It was a decision he regretted instantly, but it was too late to change course. He’d already seen everything.
In the bathroom, next to the sink faucet, stood Annabeth—the cashmere sweater’s sleeves rolled up to her elbows, fully exposing her abnormally slender arms, which were covered in neat rows of scars.
For just a moment, it seemed as if time slowed, allowing him to better discern what was going on. A razor blade glinted sinisterly under the bright, sterile LED lights. Thick, red blood spilled from the cuts Annabeth had just inflicted upon herself. It trickled down the rest of her arm like a welcome guest, accentuating the warmth of her skin with its ruby hue and eventually meeting the bottom of the sink.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, she noticed him, and immediately her gray eyes grew to the size of quarters, her mouth forming a small o’ startled at the aspect of having been caught during her secret ritual.
The razor clattered to the floor, and time seemingly resumed itself; however, he still couldn’t comprehend what was going on. It was the calm before the storm; no one moved for several seconds as the two stared at one another, silence stretching between the two of them like pulled taffy. However, a nauseating sound still seemed to ring out as her blood drip, drip, dripped into the sink, mixing with water, and then disappearing forever.
“Dad, What-”
“Clean yourself up; dinner's in an hour,” he brusquely stated, his face burning and likely changing into what must've been a deep red, much like the blood on his daughter's arms. The room was suffocating, and the oxygen wasn’t coming to him fast enough. He couldn’t understand. He didn’t think he wanted to.
So he turned and high-tailed it out of there. So much for laying down the law.
He wished he could say the rest of the night went more uneventfully: a peaceful dinner full of polite conversation, a quick cleanup, followed by him planning out classwork as his children did their homework, and ending with everyone going to bed at their discretion. However, they weren’t even able to get through dinner before another problem arose.
“Can I be excused?” asked Annabeth, not looking up from her plate, which remained relatively untouched.
Immediately, he responded with a resounding "no," with his wife following up with “But, you’ve hardly touched anything on your plate!”
Bobby and Matthew giggled, and Annabeth shot the two of them a menacing glare, which quickly silenced them.
In turn, he tsked in reprimand, which went largely ignored by the three children. What couldn't be ignored, though, was the shriek Susan let out at about the same time.
“Get rid of that look, you brat!”
For a few fleeting moments, everyone was silent, tensing at the outburst. All the air seemed to evaporate from the room, and the only noise was the scraping of metal against porcelain. Annabeth, for her part, schooled her expression, even pretended she was considering eating as she pushed around some of her food.
Eventually, antsy and tired of the silence, the twins picked conversation back up. Idle chatter flowed between the family—well, everyone except Annabeth, it seemed.
“You’re being awfully quiet over there,” announced Susan as she pointed her fork reproachfully at the blonde troublemaker across from her.
Quick as a whip, Annabeth responded viciously, “I am. People like you do more than enough talking for all of us”.
His mouth dropped at the spiteful remark. What had happened to his sweet little girl? The one who never talked back?
“You-you-you… Heathen! How dare you speak that way to me?”
Annabeth, eyes downcast and lips pulled back in something akin to a snarl, seemed to mutter something unintelligible under her breath as a means of response.
Susan, practically spitting fire, narrowed her eyes, “What did you say?”
“I said-”
Before the two could go any further, he interjected, “That's enough. Annabeth, apologize to Susan right this instant.” This was not the time nor the place for such mannerisms.
“Sorry,” she said, rolling her eyes. He felt his wife shift as if ready to pounce beside him, also noticing the sign of disrespect.
“Annabeth,” he chastised, and, in return, received a scowl as she threw her arms in the air.
“I can’t do anything right! I was literally just sitting there, and even that wasn’t good enough.” She pushed herself away from the table, standing up in what appeared to be an attempt to leave.
“Young lady, stop raising your voice and sit down right now,” Fredrick commanded before she could get too far.
Her shoulders tensed, and she stood there awkwardly as if glued in place, her mouth opening and closing as she seemed to war with herself. Finally, her voice small, she said, “Can I just have a moment, please?”
He shook his head, struggling not to guffaw at the entitlement. “Your time for requests has passed. It's time for you to listen and follow directions. I am sick and tired of your antics. You are going to sit down, eat your food, and hold a civilized conversation with us. If you don't, I'm going to take away your car privileges for the next month!”
She balked, taking a step backward. He narrowed his eyes. “You can’t do that. How would I get to school?”
“I can, and I will, but we don't have to worry about that because you're going to sit down.”
With that logic applied, Annabeth bent to his will, acquiescing as she sat back down. Though he could tell the fight had not left her, her fists clenched at her sides.
"See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?" Susan smiled. Then, in a much quieter voice geared toward her husband's ears, she continued, "Maybe she has a brain in there after all."
Annabeth gaped, looking back and forth between both parents. Her hands fisted, now gripped at the tablecloth as if it were a lifeline. “Stop talking about me like that," she mewled pitifully. "I’m not your doormat; go take out your unresolved issues on someone else.”
The adult woman waved a hand, brushing away the comments. “Knock it off; it's a joke. Maybe if you listened the first time, I wouldn’t say things like that.”
In that moment, a realization seemed to hit Annabeth. The distress melted away, leaving her face empty of emotions. She smiled razor-sharp, and that's when he gave up all plans for the night.
“How about you just don’t say anything about me? Or better yet, don’t talk to me.” There was an iciness to her voice, a viciousness masked behind a sheet of calm. “Ever.”
“As long as you're living under this house, you will have to deal with me and listen to what I say,” said Susan as if it were a battle cry.
“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I won’t be living in this house much longer.” Brushing off the nonexistent crumbs from her jeans, Annabeth stood back up for the second time in mere minutes. “Please, feel free to take the car; I don’t care; I'm going upstairs.”
Teeth clenched, he stood up as well, chair screeching at the sudden action as he tried to regain any semblance of control over the situation. Thinking fast, he reached his arm out, “Give me your phone now, too."
All dimples and opalescent eyes, his daughter brought her smile beaming down on him. “Here you go,” she said before dropping her phone into the spot opposite his hand. It sailed in the empty space before landing hard on the marble floor, the screen shattering.
Annabeth stifled an exaggerated gasp, “Oh, no!” she said in mock horror. “Silly me, if only I had a brain, then things like that wouldn’t happen.”
He stared at the spider-webbed fissures now marring the screen in disbelief, palms flexing at his sides, "I can't believe you!”
“My apologies,” she said in that annoyingly saccharine sweet voice she had mastered over the years. “Is there anything else you want to use against me? Or can I go now?”
After that, things got out of control.
It was a blur of actions and inactions.
Words said, and words regretted.
Annabeth cried, he cursed.
Annabeth screamed, he screamed back.
Annabeth locked her bedroom door, he banged on the door.
“You’re not listening to me!” Annabeth moaned. “You never do!”
“Keep quiet, Annabeth; the neighbors are going to hear you."
Annabeth just laughed darkly, and there was a long stretch of silence before he heard her again, muttering something along the lines of "I can’t be here.”
Immediately, he understood what she was planning. It was always her go-to when things became too difficult for her.
"Annabeth,” he warned, “if you run away, I’m not going to come looking for you or call all your friends. If you’re not home, I’ll call the police.”
There was no answer, just the sound of what he assumed was the window opening and slamming shut.
His hands automatically went to pinch the bridge of his nose, and he counted to three in his head in order to collect himself. When he felt more composed, he shouted down the stairs, "Susan, call the cops and report a habitual runaway.”
Fredrick made good on his promise. After she left, he went downstairs and ate dinner with his family. He played with Bobby and Matthew, and then, when it was time, he put them to sleep with a kiss on the forehead.
Several hours later, he received a call notifying him that she’d been found at a bus station with her school backpack and a few thousand dollars. She hadn’t intended to come back.
She’d spent that night in custody.
~0~
He was driving home with Annabeth now, both of them avoiding the others’ eyes. There were a million things that needed to be said, but he didn’t know how to say any of it. Didn’t know how to tell her what was going to happen. So, he didn’t say anything.
Soon enough, he was pulling up to their house, and he knew he was out of time.
There stood a woman in a crisp business suit, speaking and laughing to a man dressed similarly, as another one of their partners helped Susan carry Annabeth’s suitcase set out of the house and into their vans.
Energy bubbled between them, a fight beginning to brew. It was time; this discussion was going to happen whether he liked it or not. He was just about to start when Annabeth beat him to it.
“I hate you.” The tone was blunt and matter-of-fact, cutting him to the bone.
However, Fredrick couldn't find it in himself to look where the words had come from. He knew what he’d see—intense grey eyes boring into him with an unmatched animosity, a deep scowl, possibly tears—though he doubted the last one as Annabeth didn’t make it a habit of crying in front of others.
Fredrick pursed his lips and cleared his throat before letting the words that’d been building up spill out of his mouth. "Listen, Annabeth, I understand you’re a teenager and going through a challenging time, what with your body changing, and school getting harder, but enough is enough. It’s gotten out of hand. And after what I discovered the other day, it would seem you need another kind of help that I’m not able to provide you.” A harsh, mirthless laugh sounded from the opposite side of the car.
“You can’t be serious.”
Though he felt his face beginning to warm, he continued unperturbed, “So, we decided it might be best if you were to go away for a while. I’ve already set up alternative arrangements for you. You’ll be staying with some well-trained professionals who are better equipped for this kind of thing. This will be good for all of us, you'll see.”
“Alternative arrangements?” Annabeth said incredulously. “What even is that supposed to mean?”
He licked his lips, which seemed drier now than the Sahara, and fumbled with his pocket before pulling out a pamphlet. The words The Goode Practice: The world's finest residential treatment center leapt off the page in bright, bold red letters. He slid it over to her, not daring to look her in the eyes.
There was a beat of silence, then a cry of anger, along with the banging of fists on the car’s windows.
“Why didn’t you just let me leave? I don’t want you to send me to some crazy hospital!” She let out a guttural scream that left him wincing. Her next words rushed together, melding into one, as she cried out to deaf ears. “I don't need that type of help! I just need to get away from you! Away from this awful family!"
“The decision is final,” he asserted, but he still couldn’t find it in himself to look at her. So he didn’t.
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