My Daughter, The Emo (Sequal to "She's My Fucking Daughter! I Have To See Her!"), chapter 4

***Scarlet's Point of View***

Have you ever woken up, and your dad tell you something that you really didn't want to hear? Well, it happened to me.

"Just talk to her," he whispered with his hand on the talking end of the phone.
"No! I don't want to. You know how much I can't stand her!" I whispered back. There was a pause. "Please?" he whispered sympathetically.
I tried to avoid his eyes. But I couldn't. "Fine," I let out, grabbing the phone from him, "Hello?"
"Thank you," he mouthed and walked out the room.

"Hey, baby!" my "mom" said on the other end.
"Hey, Mom."
"How are you doing down there? They're treating you okay?"
"Yeah, Mom. I'm doing fine."
"Good. They really miss you down at the gas station. Debbie says it's weird to go to work and you not come in panting the whole day."
"Well, they're just going to have to get over that, I guess. Tell Debbie I miss her, too."
"Okay, baby."
"I really have to go now, Mom."
"Alright. Bye."
"Bye."

I hung up. "You happy?!" I yelled, hoping my dad would hear me.
I got dressed, put on my jacket, and headed downstairs.
My dad looked up from his breakfast. "Yes, I'm very happy," he said jokingly. "Thanks for asking."
I smiled and rolled my eyes.
"Are you hungry?" Adie asked from the stove. "I made eggs."
"No thanks," I responded. I hate turning her down. Especially when she cooked something. She's a really good cook, I'll tell you that much. I just don't like to eat.

"Why do you even bother asking her, Adie?" Dad said through a mouthful of eggs, "You know the answer will always be 'no.'" He smiled at me. I stuck my tongue out.
"Where's Joey?" I asked after a while, putting my hands in my pockets.
"In his room," Adie said, smiling. "He loves that Tonka truck you bought him for his birthday."
I smiled and ran upstairs to my little, well, half-brother's room.

***Billie's Point of View***

I had just finished breakfast and was reading the paper. I scanned the headlines and the pictures, looking for something interesting before I gave up and went straight to the comics. What? A grown man can't enjoy Garfield?

My eyes stopped on one particualr picture. "Wow," I said reading the story.
"What?" Adie asked, walking over and looking over my shoulder.
"This guy," I said. "It says he's only seventeen years old, and he's already raped five girls in the past two months. Two he killed. The rest are just really badly injured."
"How old were the girls?"
"The two he killed were twelve and thirteen. The other three were all fourteen."
"Have they caught him yet?"
"Nope. But they know his first name."
"What's that?"
"Pete."