The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

“You think I have an alcohol problem? You’re talking about rehab?” I lift my palms in complete disbelief. “Dad? Mom?” I turn imploringly. “I didn’t drink for like over three weeks after I came here, almost four! An alcoholic wouldn’t go more than four hours. I fucked up once, and you want to condemn me to a fucking rehab center. What the hell is wrong with you?” My temper chooses to dominate over wounded pride and pain.

Miss. Predictable!

“I think it’s more than booze, Sophie. I don’t know what else you kids are taking nowadays, but saying you were spiked.... Did you take drugs?” He is deadly serious, and it rips a hole right through my heart. Betrayal at its worst.

“Drugs? Are you fucking kidding me? You know how I feel about drugs, Dad! Why are you even saying this to me? How can you even think that of me?.... Have you even looked at me the last few weeks, seen how different I have tried to be?” yelling, emotionally bawling at him with rage and hysteria breaking free.

proof, that despite trying so hard, you cannot do this without real help.” My mom is now beside

I snap harshly, yanking my arm free. “I can’t do this right now, I’ll end up saying something I regret, and I need some space. You two are out of your heads if you think I need to go to rehab. Talk about one extreme to the other, dad.....You either leave me to my own

who runs a good place. You are going and that is final, Sophie. I won’t put

in a rehab center when I don’t even have an addiction. You’re crazy.... All of you. You can all go the fuck away and leave me alone.” I keep running, trying to ignore the bellowing of my dad below me, forbidding me to leave. I can hear my mom sobbing and him yelling to get him his cell and I just want to scream. There’s a smash as he loses his shit, and something gets thrown across the hall in a

things over the top of me, hold me down, smack me around when I disobeyed him, come flooding back. That stubborn head goes on, blinkers attached and my

he has no chance of stopping me. Even if he barricades the doors. I’ve been escaping this house since I was fourteen years old and sneaking out to see Arry and his friends. They aren’t about to lock me in when I haven’t even

going to rehab, I don’t fucking need it, but I know it’s not that simple. I have known girls whose families had them drugged up and dragged there, by burly men in white uniforms who give zero shits about whether they have an