Helanie:
Once he took me to our bedroom and placed me next to the door like a statue, he locked the door while I stood there, glaring at him with my hands on my waist.
"What?" he asked, shrugging.
"What is going on with you? I was trying to help Charlotte," I argued, watching him act like he didn't care. He began taking off his wristwatch, all the while staring at his reflection in the mirror.
"Did she ask for your help?" he asked.
"Huh? Your mother hit her," I added.
"Okay? Let them deal with it. You're supposed to be in your bedroom past ten," he stated—no, he ordered and my breath hitched.
"Why is that? Are you my father now?" I questioned in a sharp tone. Maybe I wanted the old Norman back—the one who didn't make me feel so shy. I used to be playful with him because I knew Norman didn't have the courage or interest to make me blush or embarrass me.
