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Ocean has never seen her parents so mad before. And she’s seen them in a lot of different ways.
So high that they can’t even remember their own names? Yes. Absolutely euphoric and acting like it was the best day ever? Yup. Completely paranoid and thinking that she was a monster hunting them down in their own house? Unfortunately. Relatively normal and functioning like people should? Even that! But so enraged that they go red in the face and look more like animals than humans? No.
The worst part is: Ocean knows it’s her own fault. She can fault her parents for many, many, MANY different things, but for once, this is entirely her doing. And that’s what intensifies the whole thing even more because she has no one to blame but herself, and she’s never been good at looking responsibility in the eye and owning up to something she’s done wrong.
See, it may come as a surprise, but Ocean’s family is very big on respect. Both of her parents grew up in strict households, which is one of the main reasons they took up the lifestyle they have now, to get away from it all, but they still retain the rules they were taught at a young age. Discipline and deference were ingrained into their brains, and now they’ve ingrained it into Ocean’s, too (hence why she insists on referring to every adult as “sir” and “ma’am”). Even when they’re stoned out of their minds, Ocean is expected to be polite, well-mannered, and completely reverential.
Most of the time, she is.
This time, she wasn’t.
It had already been a terribly frustrating day. Ocean didn’t get much sleep the night before because of a get-together her parents decided to throw with their friends, despite it being a school night for her. She spent the whole night tossing and turning, listening to the sound of loud laughter and chatter from downstairs, knowing there was absolutely nothing she could do to get them to be quiet. And even when the little party did end, she still couldn’t fall asleep for reasons she didn’t know and didn’t care enough about to try and figure out, even though she was terribly exhausted.
And then at school, her partner for a project in history didn’t do his part, so they had an unfinished test grade until he completed it, and who knew when that would happen, and even if and when it did, it would still not give them full credit because it would be turned in late.
She had been a ticking time bomb ever since she didn’t get a good night’s rest, and she expected a detonation to happen eventually, she just didn’t think it would have been her parents who were the ones that would explode.
Ocean was very well-versed in respect and manners, but sometimes she just slipped up. And this time, she did. She did big time.
She preferred the euphoric side of her parents’ high over the paranoid or incomprehensible sides, but when she was this irritated and tired, she didn’t want anything to do with them. They didn’t seem to get the memo, though, and kept on trying to talk to her while she was doing her homework. Ocean really hadn’t meant to snap at them as fiercely as she did, but the words spewed like fire from her lips before she could even think to cool the flames of her frustration. And by the time she did realize, she knew it was too late.
Ocean notices it immediately—the way her parents go unnervingly silent and still, and their faces twitch and ripple like a melting mask of wax. There’s something awful swimming behind their eyes, and Ocean has accidentally awakened it.
Ocean knows there’s no real point in apologizing, it won’t lessen whatever punishment she’s going to get for her rudeness, but she still finds herself blurting out, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Her father, who had been sitting on the edge of her bed while he was attempting to talk to her, stands up slowly. His eyes remain on her the entire time, completely unblinking. His hand goes to his pants, and Ocean knows she’s in for a bad night.
Why couldn’t she just learn to keep her stupid mouth shut?
“Take your dress off,” her father says coldly, no sign of any friendliness left.
“Yes, sir,” Ocean mumbles. She does as she’s told, standing up from her desk and slipping her dress off. The cold air hits her bare skin instantly, but she knows it won’t remain that chilled for long.
“Put your hands on the wall,” her father orders.
“Yes, sir,” Ocean says again, obeying his command. She braces herself, pressing her palms flat against the wall.
Her father offers her no other words, nor does her mother, leering at her silently from the side, before the belt comes down on the naked, unprotected skin of her back.
Through tears, Ocean glares at the wall as the belt licks mercilessly along her flesh, resentment boiling in the pit of her belly. She knows that she had been disrespectful, she’ll admit that, but she doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve to be beaten like a cow. She doesn’t deserve to have absolutely batshit parents. She doesn’t deserve to get treated this way.
It’s not fair.
Ocean curls her fingers, digging her knuckles into the wall. Something hot begins to ooze its way down the curve of her back. The smack of leather against raw flesh echoes in her ears. Breathing hurts.
Fuck, this is so not fair.
She hates her life. She really, truly does. But out of everything, she hates her parents the most.
She wants them to be dead.
She wants them to get help.
She wants them to beat her death so she doesn’t have to live with them anymore.
She wants to kill them herself.
She doesn’t know what she wants.
Maybe it doesn’t even matter.
The belt buckle strikes her back; her father has switched to the other end of the belt. She feels the prong scrape away a swath of flesh, drawing more blood, and she knows she won’t be getting much sleep tonight, either.