𝑪𝑹𝒀 𝑴𝑬 𝑨 𝑹𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹 (18+)

ten • true colors

River.

I hated the piano because my father played it and I hated it even more because I was good at it. When people heard me play they congratulated me, patting me on the back with warm praises and kind words. I reminded them of my father and that was the worst thing anyone could ever say to me. I didn't want to be anything like him, and I never wanted anyone to see me in his image. I hated the piano, hated that I loved the feeling I got when my fingers graced the keys and the first few notes drifted into the air.

I tended to go to another place whenever I was behind a keyboard but right now I was planted firmly in reality. Nate was pissed—furious at me and he wasn't subtle about it either. The entire rehearsal he ignored me like a child, bumping into me whenever we crossed paths. It wasn't until practice was over and we were both standing outside in the dark that he decided to bless me with his candor.

"How do you know him River?" I felt his gaze shift on me and it burned my entire being. "Everyone knows him, Nate," I deflected.

"That's not what I fucking meant." He sighed and rested his foot against the paneling, "I don't want you around him. I don't care how the two of you know each other, or how well, stay the fuck away from him River."

"Or what?" I asked and not because I wanted to challenge him or to get under his skin. I genuinely wanted to know what he would do if he saw me with Dean again. How quickly would his occasional kind gestures turn to unequivocal jealousy?

"You think this is a joke?" He hissed. "Are you trying to get back at me or something?"

"No Nate. I know this might be hard for you to believe but I don't sit around thinking about what I could do to piss you off. Why do you care who I hang out with anyways? I never ask you where you are or who you're with. You do whatever you want whenever you want without any questions. You shouldn't feel entitled to know who I spend time with."

This entire week had been so exhausting for me. I didn't have any energy left to argue or fight. I could barely muster a smile but rage swelled deep within my gut and the lid was slowly tipping. I was tired of doing what everyone told me to do. Tired of being the perfect little girl—no never being in my vocabulary, speaking when spoken to, and bending to everyone's will. I no longer wanted to be a pawn in my parent's or Nate's games. I wanted freedom and for the first time in my life, I was ready to walk into the light.

Nate took a few terrifying steps closer to me, backing me against the wall. I wasn't scared of him but that didn't stop me from holding my breath and bracing myself for him to hit me. He'd never done it before and part of me didn't think he had it in him, but I could never put it past him. If my own father could look me in the eyes and strike me with no remorse, he could do it too.

"I don't know who's putting silly fucking fantasies into your head, River, but you don't have many options. You're mine, you always have been mine and you always will be. You can try and convince yourself you're only with me because you want to be but we both know that isn't true. Your parents have been planning our wedding since we were kids. There's no other choice for you but me. You don't get to fucking choose River so you should be on your knees thanking me for not telling your fucking father about the company you keep." He gripped my wrist and pinned it against the wall and it took everything in me not to wince.

"You want to break up with me? Hm?" A tear fell involuntarily and he kissed it away, "only in death would you be able to get away from me River."

I could see it now. The fear in his eyes. Nate was afraid, terrified that I'd actually decide I didn't need him. That there was someone out there who would treat me better, give me a life I deserved one better than rotting away here in Meadowview. He was stuck and he wanted me to be stuck with him for the rest of our lives no matter how miserable both of us were. So he tried to scare me. He did his best to make me see my father in him, to feel like if I stepped out of line his fury would be worse than any punishment my father could inflict on me and he was wrong.