Walking downstairs, I see the aftermath of the situation I've created. My brother sits beside Ivy's dad, and my own dad on the other couch. They give me a death glare, my suitcase in hand, and Ivy beside me.

"Where are you going?" My dad asks. Something about his voice makes me wanna stand taller, and look more stoic. Seem strong, and capable of things I'm probably not capable of.

A father's supposed to make you feel empowered, but in his presence, all I feel is weakness marring my face. "I'm going," I reply. "And I'm not coming back here anymore."

"And what of this mess you've created? He's not just gonna let you live this down," he says, talking of the unconscious man laying on the couch. "There will be consequences, and this time, you can't hide behind me, and not face them."

"I'll deal with the consequences when I have to. Just don't interfere with my life anymore. You have no right." He laughs.

"Oh, you've made that abundantly clear, son. Bringing some lowlife into this house, and then beating up her father when he's the only chance she had to be welcomed in this family."

I'm about to respond, but I hear an unexpected voice do it for me. "I'm the lowlife?" Ivy starts. "You're so unhappy that talking down to people is the only way you can feel good about yourself." I hold my breath.

"You're so unhappy that mooching off of your son's relationship is the only way you're involved in his life. And you're so unhappy that you live in this big mansion with no one that actually cares about you."

Silence seeps through the floorboards, and suffocates the room. "I don't know. The way I see it, you're the only lowlife here, sir." My palms are sweaty, and an adrenaline surges through my veins. I've never heard anyone talk to my dad like this.

"Get out of my fucking house!" Ivy smiles, knowing she's gotten under his skin.

"Gladly." Grabbing my hand, I suppress a big grin as we leave through the door.