[Melvin Newton]

Strange, sometimes, how emotions could shift so quickly. They were unstable, fickle things, far from fit to build decisions on. To be moved by them was to be moved by every new wave that passed by you, whatever the source. Melvin knew this, knew it too well. He had built himself specifically to resist their influence.

And yet...

There was still something in him that stirred at Melody's words, something that moved at her distress. He couldn't help it, and he didn't want to. Her deep pain seemed to run him through, a lance thrown right through his abdomen. The emotion struck him hard and left him reeling. He was right, yes? He was right about all this; he knew the truth, it was on his side. But the tremble in her lips, the wetness in her eyes- suddenly all he wanted to do was hold and comfort her. The ground beneath him had become unstable.

"Melody," he said. "I..."

There was so much wrong with what she had said. How could he even begin? It was time to be her father. To say ssomething, today, that would halt whatever path she was on. Yet he couldn't. Her voice and words had paralyzed him. He felt like a bug pinned to a card, and his heart wanted to bring out something that would make the anger disappear. Why so much anger? So much sadness? He couldn't understand. He was left with the impression that he might have known once but found himself stumbling in the blank part of his mind now.

"I'm not- I don't-"

He had to say something. Silence was unacceptable. He was her father; he had to find words and find her and bring her back from the pit he felt rapidly opening up between them.

"I love you," he said, and the pause was smaller than normal, no more than an intake of breath. "I'm your father, and I want what's best for you." The words weren't smooth or polished and came out in bursts of breath but at last they were coming. "Don't cry." That was wrong, he thought. It came out like an angry demand and that's not what I think not what I feel but he couldn't stop. "What you said is wrong." Too harsh. He didn't mean it that way. Had to-

He stood, hands clenched into fists. She suddenly looked very small and vulnerable and his heart was filled with the demand to protect her. To shelter her and make a safe place for her in the world. He was failing. He was falling down on his role and couldn't understand why. The world had gone wrong and it was out of his control.

He walked past her and threw open the blinds on the nearest window. The backyard looked back at him: grass, pool, swingset that Melody hadn't used in years. The sun was bright and the sky was blue and through deep breaths he took control of his berzerker emotions.

When he turned towards her his voice was normal again. The control the situation called for had returned.

"It's them, isn't it?" He said. "The people who were with you in the car. You aren't a bad person. I know that. It's the people you've chosen to hang out with." He paused, studying her for a moment. His next words were spoken with a weight like black stones.

"Perhaps you're right. Perhaps it would be best if you went away from them."

Melody Newton

[Melody Newton]

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[attr="class","nikki99"]

I NEED TO COME DOWN

[attr="class","nikki100"]

[attr="class","nikki101"]SEEMS LIKE THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD WENT AND LOST ITS MIND

[attr="class","nikki102"]AND ALL MY CHILDHOOD HEROES HAVE FALLEN OFF OR DIED

[attr="class","nikki109"]Melody couldn't help it, eventually the tears had overwhelmed her will and were now trickling gently down her cheeks. She sat there, glaring at him, daring him to say anything more, knowing that he would.

She was shocked when he seemed unable to find the words. Her father always knew what to say, was always in total control. He'd always been like a machine, reciting words and using advice from the myriad of parenting books in his study, like she'd come with a manual and wasn't quite responding as it described.

For once he didn't have a prepared response, for once he didn't sound like her father had left the building and left a machine to deal with her instead. And then he said 'I love you'. With barely a pause where once there was a gaping chasm. It was like a hammer blow. She looked down, the tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping from her face. Melody made no move to wipe them away, her hands still curled into fists at her side.

His words came fast then, aggressive, each one accompanied by a harsh outburst of breath. She felt smaller with each one and as he stood she couldn't help but flinch. He had never raised his hand to her, but she had never seen him this angry, and she had no idea what might happen now.

"Dad…"

Then it was gone. For however brief a moment, she'd actually known her father, seen the man behind the façade. Now that mask was back in place, that controlled tone returned to his voice. She felt her anger surge back, though it was muted now, resigned.

"Yeah Dad, blame someone else. I couldn't possibly be responsible for my own actions. It must be somebody else."

She stood without looking at him, and said "Whatever Dad, it's not like I was ever going to have a choice is it?"

She expected no answer to the question, beginning to walk towards the door. She left the incriminating items on the table.

[attr="class","nikki103"]340

[attr="class","nikki103"]Melvin Newton

[attr="class","nikki103"]Eau de Resistance

NOTES

Anger turns to resentment?

PHARAOH LEAP.

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[Melvin Newton]

His control had returned- externally- but his emotions remained raw and vulnerable, barely scabbed over from their previous disturbance. Like dry leaves, they remained light and insubstantial, ready to be blown about at the slightest wind. Slowly his control was returning. His feet solidly planted in he declaration of the cause of Melody's problems, he felt some sense of proportion returning to the situation, letting him see that it was not so dire as he had thought a few moments before. She had an unmatched talent for unbalancing him, yes, but it was not absolute. He was equal to it. Surely this was progress. He had told Melody that he didn't blame her or think she was a bad person. Wasn't it right that she should hear that? Didn't all of the books warn about being careful not to crush a child's spirit?

Then her reply came, scornful of his attempt to offer her mercy, flipping it on its head and making his statement an insult. Suddenly the collectedness he had gathered in the last few moments was gone, and he could only stare at her, slack-jawed. Her statement had exactly the same effect as turning the entire house upside-down. He had been committed to his words, had, at the moment he said them, believed them deeply. Yet now he was at once gifted and cursed with the inescapable realization of how she saw it. In an instant his carefully built up reply, intended to offer her an olive branch, was torn to shreds. For he saw now his statement as she must have seen it, saw it so obviously he questioned how he could ever have missed it: a denial of her agency and personhood- and what could be more demeaning to a teen so set on expressing theirs?

He saw the magnitude of his mistake in an instant, so overwhelming he could only sit and stare at her slack-jawed. No. No no no no no no no! How could he have been so blind?

“That's not what I-” he began, but it was barely a whisper, and his throat constricted and he could say nothing more. He swallowed. Licked his lips. “I didn't mean-” But that was a whisper too, and then the words dried up and he stopped. And he could only stare as she turned and walked away.

Melody Newton