Chapter Thirteen

I didn't realize how much of an unsocial introvert I was, until I was surrounded by people that scare the shit out of me.

There is not reason in particular, why they scare the shit out of me, I think the main reason is that they are living human beings. 

Like I said, I'm an unsocial introvert.

I glanced at my father, who was sitting right beside me. He seemed not to notice my misery as he smiled, and laughed along with all the people sitting around the table.

If I act desperate, maybe, just maybe someone will catch on to my pathetic attempts of an SOS.

I looked over at Juan, who was stuffing his face so impatiently, he seemed to be slowly suffocating from the lack of air. Mariah, who sat right beside him, was pounding his back furiously and shouting at him in Spanish to probably slow down and that he was a pig.

Or she was praising him, because in her eyes, he could do no wrong.

My eyes hovered to Mikey, who was currently denying the fact that my father's hair was better than his.

Then to Frank, who never really liked me in the first place. If I wasn't ready to throw away my pride, I probably wouldn't even count him as a person in the room.

He'd never help me in this situation. None of these people would.

I sighed, and leaned back in my chair. I didn't feel hungry, I seemed to have lost my appetite long ago.

This caught my father's attention, as his eyes flickered me. He leaned over, and spoke quietly enough for only us to hear, "Sit up, Aria, don't act like this now."

"I don't feel comfortable here." I said not even bothering to plead. He wouldn't care anyway. I'm not saying that out of self-pity, either.

He really would not care.

"Aria, please."

"Dad-"

"Sit. Up."

I huffed, and did as I was told, only to be bombarded with a nightmare in solid form. A cough was heard abruptly in the room, before a wad of mashed potato and meat came flying into my hair.

Wide-eyed and as silent as everyone else in the room, I looked up at Juan, who stared at me in shock. He had choked on his food, and coughed it out, flinging the spit covered food into my freshly washed hair.

I practically had greasy mucus mixed with potato and meat stuck in my hair.

Greasy, fucking mucus.

Gritting my teeth, unable to contain the rage I had, not only for Juan, but for my father for acting the way he was tonight, I grabbed my plate of food, stood up, and with all my anger and strength, I began chucking the food at Juan, until my plate was completely empty of the peculiar ammo. As I was finished, I slammed the plate down on the table, breaking it in half, and stomped out of the room, leaving everyone in it, in complete silence.

I walked up the stairs, not bothering to take notice of my father's footsteps following behind.

"Aria." He called after me, which I had completely ignored. I walked into my room, and slammed the door shut. I didn't lock it, for I knew I was about to get bombarded with the hate from my father.

The attitude.

He opened the door of my room, and walked in, shutting it behind him.

That meant things were about to get really serious. I might as well plan my funeral now.

"What the fuck was that?" He shouted, "What the fuck kind of behavior was that?"

"It was my behavior." I stated clearly, "I'm fed up with your bullshit, dad. I'm not the doll you wish I was, and I certainly don't care about your band's opinion on me."

"You behave like a four year old!"

"You treat me like a four year old!" I shouted back. "Look at me!" I beckoned to my hair, and the misplaced food that was in it, "This humiliation wouldn't have happened, if you would have just let me stayed in my room!"

He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose as if even looking at me gave him a headache, "How hard is it-" He said quietly, but stern, "for you to act the way I want you to act for just a few hours?"

I shrugged, "I guess your expectations for me are to difficult."

He shook his head, "You aren't staying in this room."

"What?"

He took a step forward, "If you want to be stubborn, so will I. Clean you hair, and get your ass back downstairs."

I looked at him in disgust, "Hell no."

"Excuse me?"

"You cannot expect me to go back down there after what happened-"

"What happened was your fault, Aria, you set the humiliation on yourself."

I groaned, the amount of annoyance, and anger that I felt toward my own father at this very moment, might just have set a new record. "You're insane, you know that? You are completely and utterly insane."

"Aria, don't make this difficult."

"You're the only one being difficult right now." I stood up, and walked over to my door, "So get out, and return back to your guests before things get any more awkward than they already are."

"You're coming." He stated, as if I was really going to obey.

"You know I'm not." I said clearly, "You can drag me to hell but there is no chance in the fucking world I'm going down there again."

We stared at each other, glaring menacingly as if we both were ready to physically brawl.

Surprisingly, my father eventually gave up, without saying a word, he walked out the door.