Davey's Liquor Depot came into view as Illyria continued driving down the street and she let a breath of relief escape her mouth. No drunks, not prostitutes, no loitering smokers, just a semi-filled parking lot. She repeated the same process as what she did at the previous store, the one where Dylan and Matthew were fighting in the back alley. She muttered a silent prayer to whoever was listening that nothing too extravagant would unfold inside of this store.

      She got out of the car and made sure to lock it and began her route towards the building. She checked her watch quickly before making her way across a large intersection of the parking lot. It had been a little over an hour since she'd left and if her father was as angry as she'd perceived, then he would've come for her by now. How would he find her, who knew, but he always had a way. As Illyria cautiously looked both ways, she heard the screech of tires from her left side. 

     She stopped in her tracks and looked at the driver of the SUV in the eyes, her blood going cold and face draining of color at an instant. It was her father who had almost ran her over with a face beyond being livid and eyes that were alive with sobriety, that could pulverize her into a pile of nothing to be whisked away with the evening's breeze.

     He rolled down the window and stuck his balding head out of the car. "Illyria, get in, now." he said in a tone what was frighteningly placid and his face remaining blank. When she made no move from her current position, a large downcast glare formed on his face. "Goddamnit, Illyria! I said get in the damn car!", he yelled. "See," he started. "That's your problem. You never listen. You feign ignorance. You're just like your mother." Those five words stung worse than getting struck down by lightening.

     Illyria's mother was the best woman that she could ever ask to be in her life. Illyria had a heavy weight of guilt sit in her conscience for over a decade, because she knew that if it wasn't for her, her mother would still be there. She would still be there keeping her dad sober and their family intact. Illyria was just 6. They were in the grocery store, getting ready for the big 4th of July cookout they always hosted. She needed to go to the bathroom after the large soda her mom had let her drink. When she heard shouting, she paid no mind to it as she skipped into the main part of the store where her parents and other shoppers were being held hostage.

     The gunman was ready to fire, aimed at Illyria, the criminals thinking she was a cop and it was fired, the bullet coming towards her small frame in slow motion. Her mother sensing the inevitable injury, she threw herself in front of her daughter, taking the bullet down with her and the crooks running out of the store. A single tear had ran down her mother's as a chilling whisper spoke, "You have so much more to live for than me, live your life, Illyria." Her father pushed her out of the way to cradle his dying wife, her last wish being that her only child is take care of with every ounce in her husband's body. He however, had other ideas. 

     Calling her names and blaming her mother's death on her for 11 years was torment enough. He always said her mother always did stupid things and never thought about her actions. He always sneered that Illyria was the walking proof of idiocy. Her father never seemed like an actual father, just a man who sustained her until she was an adult.

     Illyria took two careful steps forward, a calculating look growing on her face as she further approached the vehicle her father sat in. As she reached the driver's side window, she crossed her arms. "No." A look of utter defiance graced her features. The sky began to darken slightly, signifying an oncoming storm. "What did you just say to me? Do you think that you're so big and ba-"

     "I don't think anything, but I do know that I'm done. Done dealing with you and your damn junkie friends. You and all the yelling, screaming, insults, you grabbing me, you taking out your anger on me. I'm done taking your shit. 11 years. 11 years I've soaked up everything and did nothing about it. This is the last time I'm doing this, Mom wanted me to have the life I deserved and I know that this sure as hell isn't it." Searing tears of anger streamed down her face. She'd never dream of standing up to him, not in a million years. Although she didn't know where this sudden burst of energy came from, she didn't care. It didn't scare her and she loved it, the rush of it all, the rush of being the bigger person for once.

     Illyria got as close to the window as possible and punched her father as hard as she could, square in the jaw and ran to her car. He was knocked out cold and possibly not a as sober as she had thought. She started the car and took her newfound confidence to the liquor store where she had last seen Dylan.

     She had arrived prepared to do whatever was deemed necessary. Once she pulled up, she saw that the people who were previously standing outside were gone, their bikes as well. She yanked open the door rather harshly and walked inside to see Dylan dragging an unconscious Matthew across the blandly tiled floor. Picking up a nearby rope off a crate, Illyria handed it to him to tie up the man. 

     "Why'd you come back?" he asked in a hushed tone. She noticed he had changed into a fresh shirt. "Because I care. I was worried and I wanted to make sure you were alright." He slowly analyzed her face, the way she held herself and noticed something was different. "Something's up..." he trailed off. 

     "I just need a place to stay. I can't go back home." An eyebrow was raised on Dylan's gentle face. "What do you mean?" "Just know it's something I won't ever regret and I want to make sure my father never finds me. Ever." A small smiled tugged itself onto her lips as Dylan wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "No problem Hudson, anything you need, I got you. We can even stop by your place to pick everything up." Illyria glanced behind her at the slumped over man at the counter by the employee's' office. "What about him?" she asked, jerking her chin in his direction. "Oh, him? Don't worry, Jeff'll take care of him in an hour."

Once they had walked outside the shop, Illyria gave a small sigh and buried her face into Dylan's shirt. It smelled of him. "Thank you, for everything," she mumbled into his chest. He smiled down at her and continued to walk to the car, not caring about the rain drizzling down lightly on them.

****

Ok, this chapter was lowkey my favorite one to write and it made me think about this song. If you've ever heard She Knows by J. Cole, this is the girl singing in the background of the chorus and the beginning of the song.

Song: Bad Things

Artist: Cults

Also, I woke up this morning with a cramp in my calve that almost made me miss school :)