Eye for an Eye, We All Go Blind | Father Figure & Spider Song

[Spider Song]

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⟼[ @Father Figure || 941 Words || A bit of a short opener, but hopefully a good start! || F - List ] ⟻​

𐌢 WHERE DID THE PARTY GO? ​ The cool air of evening hung over the streets of Bardstown, Kentucky. Streetlamps letting of dim glow which washed over the lazy streets only to give way to stars where the darkness held in the nooks and crannies of the houses. An occasional car passing down the street and drowning the hedge rows between houses in light. House lights glittered in windows like silent viewers to the scenes sprawling out on the area before them. Wind whispering through the branches of trees as leaves would shower the sidewalks in a coat of brown, yellows and golds. This sleepy little quite broken by the slow movement of dark sedan which rolled down the street at a brisk pace. It's movements cagey enough as the headlights would be out. It was almost as if the vehicle wished to not to be spotted out or found. Tires lazily spinning about as it would coast in hushed dim rumble up to the sidewalk of a nearby home. Shades of darkness twisting and turning as the car would idle for a moment. Light from the streetlamp providing a backdrop to the passenger side door as it opened. A figure hunching to rise out of the vehicle but would stand straight. Her hand pushing the door closed with unusual tentative stealth. The car slowly rolling away and off into the night. Evelynn "Eve" Prescott was a comely woman. The eighteen-year-old girl standing roughly at five foot nine, her demeanor showing that of caution though she would try her best to stand up straight. Her figure was strong in build. Her muscle lean and sleek due to years of swimming in her high school swim team. Eve's attire being something of an oddity for a preacher's daughter. For most who'd suspect to find her in modest clothing, Evelynn had always been a roguish hellrazor. The spitfire wearing what appeared to be combination of a black tank top, blue jean shorts which curved around her pert ass, a green jacket with a number of pins, spiderweb panty hose and beat up looking white sneakers rounding out the attire. Icy blue eyes taking a moment to try to adjust to the dim world just outside the streetlamps as she darted forwards. Her gait stifled by hesitant steps. Eve's head turning about as if on the lookout for something. The Protestant girl stepping forwards as she quickly would make tracks around the side of the house. Air about her carrying the faint scent of tobacco and alcohol as she would round the corner. Around back she would look up towards the roof of the house. Hands reaching outward to grip hold of the garden terrace that rest against the wall and would begin to scale upwards. A mild smirk tracing her fair features as continued her ascent. A haughty little laugh escaping as she would swing a leg over onto the roof. Sensations of victory pooling in the pit of her stomach as she would creep across the roof tiles like she had done so many times before. This wasn't the first time she'd stolen away in the dark of night. She was so intent to escape the confines of the walls of her home, the overwatch of the gaze of her Father. Evelynn Prescott's father was a righteous man who claimed ties to virtue which he was so justly proud. Michael Prescott representing all that was order, his daughter all that was chaos. Her activities of late proving to put a good deal of strain within their relationship. Eve had walked a tentative line as she was best described as a delinquent. Everything from skipping class to fights in school occupying her days at the moment. In fact, she'd nearly been sent to a group home if not for the intervention of her well to do father. That time for trying to hide her friend's weed in her desk. Now the girl had once again stole out on her own to find her own 'entertainment' as one could call it. A night spent partying away with a couple of friends in a small house party after the football game was quite a way to blow through time on a Friday night. She'd climbed out her bedroom window at around midnight and slipped down the very terrace that she had ascended to reach that point now. Hopping the back fence to make a quick jog a block down to hop in her friend's car. That was then, however. At the moment, many hours of persistent drinking had left her a bit muddled and more willing to undertake risk. The risk in that case being to allow her friends to drop her off happily in front of her house. It had left an opening for disaster should her father stir. Eve's overconfidence overflowing her cup as the girl would slip her delicate fingers under the lip of her bedroom window, slowly lifting it up in a quiet jimmying fashion. She was clearly well practiced in the finer points of sneaking out of the house. Her toned leg swinging over the windowsill as she would stagger a bit trying to keep balance. Giggling softly under her breath as dark brunette locks of hair fell across her face. Features filled with a bit of jubilation as she staggered upright in her room. The girl turning about to attempt to gently close the window, unaware of the danger lurking the in darkness of the room. Her eyes not yet adjusted to the light.

 

[Father Figure]

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⟼[ @Spider Song || 737 Words || A typical post. || F-List ] ⟻​

𐌢 TIME TO FACE THE MUSIC The room was as still as a chapel before the sermon, the lights off as his young daughter found her wayward way home. Michael Prescott sat in the corner, his presence practically a silent monolith as he considered the rather irritating actions of Evelyn. He was a man of patience, of calculated resolve, and even if his emotions were churning, they did not find his way to his features, his hands interlaced and resting on the heavy thigh of one crossed leg. His frame, broad and upright, was weary only in the ways that years of disappointment could carve into a man. He was composed, yes, but it was a composure reminiscent of a storm about to break. His eyes moved to the window as it slid open, and retinas grown used to the dark, followed the clumsy movements of his daughter as she stumbled through the act of secretly sneaking into their home with all the subtlety of a drunken idiot. It was unbecoming in all ways, but especially so when it was his eighteen-year-old little girl. The stale scent of tobacco and something sourer reached him, faint but unmistakable, carried on the breeze through the open window. The corner of his mouth twitched, just barely, not quite a smile and not quite a frown, as she let out a soft giggle, her body half-balanced against the window frame. He did not speak immediately, words were meant to be wielded carefully, like scripture. They could build walls or burn bridges; tonight, they might be doing both. His silence held in good stead until she found her way inside, and his hand came over to her nightstand to turn on the lamp there, illuminating his waiting figure. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, calm, yet edged with a cold precision that carried through the room like a blade drawn from its sheath. “You’re late.” The words dropped like a gavel, slicing through her drunken stupor. Michael leaned forward slightly, the faint creak of the chair punctuating the statement. His features, though mostly obscured in the dark, were sharp and unyielding. Shadows hollowed his cheeks and deepened the furrows in his brow, making him seem older than his years, a grim sentinel of all the rules she had so recklessly broken. He let the silence return, but he did not expect a response to his words. He had learned long ago that truth was a currency Evelynn spent sparingly, doling it out only when it served her rebellion. Still, he watched her closely, his gaze unwavering, as if searching for the little girl he’d once known beneath the layers of defiance, recklessness, and grief. The faint light caught the glint of his wedding band, a reminder of her mother long passed, as he unfolded and rested them on his knees. “I wonder, Eve,” he said his tone softening to something almost mournful. “Why do you feel the need to hurt me so? Or are you running from something?” His eyes did not leave her, even as he straightened and stood, his frame seeming to fill the room, his authority a tangible presence. “You think this world you’ve chosen, these nights of liquor and lies, will give you freedom? All you’re finding out there are chains, child. You just can’t see them yet.” Michael’s words hung in the air but is mind, though was elsewhere. Spiraling through memories of Evelynn’s mother. A woman who had once crept into their home with similar stealth, her breath carrying the bitter tang of whiskey and her words as slippery as oil. He had tried to save her, too. And he had failed. His fists tightened at the thought, nails digging into his palms, but he unclenched them just as quickly. No. Evelynn was not her mother. She could not be. Not if he had anything to do with it. “I’ve been patient, Eve,” he said at last, the softness gone now, replaced by a tone as firm as the oak cross above the pulpit. “I’ve prayed for you, pleaded with you, and yet you still choose this path. I don’t know what you’re looking for out there, but I promise you, it won’t fill the emptiness you’re feeling. Close the window, Evelynn,” he said, his voice carrying the finality of a commandment. “And sit down. We’re going to talk.” It was not a request. It was an invitation to her reckoning.​

 

[Spider Song]

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⟼[ @Father Figure || 1047 Words || Finally got a post back!~ || F - List ] ⟻​

𐌢 WHERE DID THE PARTY GO? Eve was smug as she crossed the threshold of her bedroom window. Fingers purchasing the lip of its frame to give her just enough balance to slip right on through without a sound. The girl landing on her feet as she staggered about none to gracefully as a smirk touched her lips ever so slightly. Edges of her mouth creeping upward with that usual defiance she wore all too well these days. Time was not wasted before the girl would jam a hand greedily into her jacket pocket. Rummaging fingers tracing about until they found their prize and reeled it in from the depths. Out came a silver box lighter on its reflective surface lay the Prescott family crest. A neat little gift daddy had given her when she completed her fire starter badge in girl scouts. Sadly, rather than being a heartwarming memory device, Evelynn would now casually use it to light up the cigarette stuffed between her free fingers as she would do just one more thing Daddy didn't like, smoking in the house. What her father didn't know wouldn't hurt him right? She hadn't even finished the first drag from the cigarette before the lights were flipped on in sudden fashion. Eve's shoulders hitching upwards like an alley cat bristling as she would remain frozen in place. Her back to the danger with the cigarette now clutched grimly between her teeth. A slight hunch in her shoulders eventually evening out as she would let them drop limply. The wafting cigarette smoke drifting upwards towards the ceiling where blubs now burned with light. Illuminating her sins if you were one to draw analogy. Eve would turn to face the proverbial music. Cigarette still defiantly in the corner of her mouth as she gave her father a look of annoyance. Her nose scrunching up and her teeth gritting ever so slightly. The smoke at the edge of her mouth flaring at the head with a fiery reddish black color. "I'd actually say I'm early..." Eve would begin in a matter of fact, but soft tone. She could be such the little smartass at times. Her ice blue eyes looking up past her bangs at the domineering figure her father painted sitting in her own gaming chair. "Like, I'm back before near sunrise. So that's kinda early right?" She would let her arms flop at her sides as she said it. Her expression looking somewhere between perturbed and a child who'd gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Glinting light from the wedding band around his hand would catch the girls' eyes. Her gaze lazily drifting downward to his ring finger as she would purse her lips. Drunken stupor causing her actions to be a touch less veiled that she'd normally like. It had been roughly six years since her mother had passed due to a drug overdose. Her father had been at the church when Eve had walked in to find her mother on the kitchen floor. Apparently, addiction to painkillers from a car accident four years prior had led up to what had been one of the worst days of Evelynn's life. Everything somewhat circled the drain from there. Evelynn had shut herself off from the world for a few months after that. Locking herself in her room when not at school or church, to which her routine had no life to it. The usually bubbly Christian girl who could quote the bible from memory and was extremely active to support her local scout troops had all but lost her luster for the world around her. When she finally did emerge however, one would be hard pressed to say she was the same girl who'd locked herself in that room of hers. Rebellion, outbursts, fights, sneaking out and general apathy towards rules followed. Her counselor said it was a way of dealing with the pain. Whatever the case it had become the new normal now. When confronted about her behavior Evelynn would remain quiet. A rare moment without some smart-ass response from the girl as she would attempt to verbalize her thoughts. Her running? Haha, that was totalllly funny Dad. "Running? What do I have to run from? Being grounded up in my room? Having to go sit in some shitty little pew with a bunch of bible thumpers and listen to another stupid little sermon where you talk about miracles, mercy and forgiveness? Cause God loved us so much that he decided to make Mom spend more time popping pills than giving a rat's ass about us, right?" There was anger behind those words, though as her father's voice to a sharp edge, she would grow quiet again. Though one could see her displeasure in those eyes of hers. Like staring into the mirror which held the image of the Preacher's deceased wife. She would make a sound which came from a pained place deep down, though the girl still remained petulant in the face of her father. "Every time we talk Dad, you speak in metaphor. It's like it is some horrid teaching moment in Sunday school. Hellllloooo, I'm your daughter! Not your congregation!" She would pull the cigarette out of her mouth. When told to close the window she would remain silent as her father's voice changed an octave. Her fingertips digging into the sides of her death stick as the ash fell slightly onto the floorboards. Her face flicker with a mild bit of uncertainty, something which she scrambled to cover up with defiance. Whirling about on heel to shut the window roughly in her frustration as the girl would mash the cigarette in palm by accident in the motion. A small noise like a squeak coming up from the drunk as she'd clearly burned herself. Her hand being shaken ever so slightly as she turned back about to gaze upon her father once more. Fingers flexing as she would speak in a stiff tone though one that noted a quiet bit of reservation to it. She was certainly not as openly flippant as she'd muster her response. "And if I don't wish to talk with you? What then?"

 

[Father Figure]

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⟼[ @Spider Song || 782 Words || A Disappointed Dad || F-List ] ⟻​

𐌢 TIME TO FACE THE MUSIC “No, if you were my congregation we might not be having this conversation. Most of them at least know how to feign respect.” The words were calmly delivered, a chiding tone behind them as a father’s concern briefly touched his features. It was the squeak that did it, the older man had always had a soft heart for his daughter, especially after her mother’s untimely passing, but even that brief moment of empathy could not survive the welling of anger within his spirit at her words. A determined hardening of his heart as Everlyn’s words cut with their typical childish petulance, an unrelenting sharpness that reminded him far too much of the woman who had delivered her unto this world. The rebellion was simply a front, one that he knew masked a deep-seated uncertainty in herself, in her life, in her very place within it. But, like so many parents he was forced into a position of being the enemy to a young woman he simply wanted to provide succor. He had mostly curbed his anger, quelling the immature need to prove which of them would win such a contest of wills, but when his daughter spit such vile heated words about her mother, he could not countenance it. No, such desecration and disrespect would not go unpunished, not in his house. He stood suddenly, the tall stature of the man caught in the light and casting his silhouette over the room, plunging Evelynn shadow. The way he stood reminiscent of Moses on Mount Sinai, holding divine scripture within his very hands, gazing down upon his people defiling themselves in idolatry. And the analogy was fair, for his daughter was much the same as those poor souls led to freedom out of Egypt. How quickly their hearts forgot God’s benevolence, and how swiftly one fell to vice. For a space of time the older man merely said nothing, his gaze meeting Eve’s with condemnation, the knuckles of his hands whitening as they clenched together. Had her father ever been close to hitting her? Hurting her? Not since she was a young child had he touched her in such a way, corporal punishment an action long forgotten. Yet, it might be time that he reminded his wayward daughter as to the results of her poor decision making. Sad choices brought sad consequences, but any self-reflection would be a reminder enough that it was not her choice that had brought them to this impasse. It was his own, for sparing the rod. And spoiling his child. “You no longer make the decision as to whether we speak. You’ve shown a remarkable capacity for self-delusion, and I’m sick of it.” Steps were taken, bridging the distance faster than seemed possible either by virtue of his size or simply her drunken stupor. Rough hand clamped over her wrist, digging in as he raised it before them, the remnants of the burning cigarette still trapped between her fingers, his eyes never relenting as he took it from her with his other hand to drop it on the floor, his foot coming forward to crush it there. Marring the wood with the tiniest hint of a burn in the process. “You think you are the only one who longed to scream at God for what was taken? The only one in pain?” His free hand rose between them, held before her face, curling open and showing her his palm. Would he strike her? Could he? “I did not have the luxury though, the satisfaction of wallowing in heartache. I had a daughter to take care of, a child to raise. It was in my hands to pick up the pieces of the life your mother shattered. I cried so much, cried until all I was left with was the sound of my own bitterness. So don’t you dare. Don’t you dare take your hate out on me. I will not countenance it.” One step, then another, as he spoke. Backing her up, moving her. It was unintentional, an afterthought of his own heated words until he had pushed Evelynn near the wall. It left them mere inches apart, his thick frame gargantuan at this distance. There was a speculative look in his eyes as they grew closer, as if he were trying to place something. Some memory, some sensation. And then with finality it hit him. It hit him and her father’s eyes went wild. Somewhere between the smell of tobacco and booze there was an underlying scent. And his voice hissed with incredulousness. “Have you been fornicating, Eve? Have you allowed a man to touch you?” But the real accusation was beneath those words. Are you impure? ​

 

[Spider Song]

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⟼[ @Father Figure || 1117 Words || She's fiery || F - List ] ⟻​

𐌢 FEAR AND THE EFFECT THEREFOR... Evelynn despite her appearance, bravado and otherwise dour mood was quite a versed little Christian in her formulative years. Perhaps more so than she'd like to admit. Eve remembered sit downs in the quiet little pews as her father elaborately painted pictures of virtue and great deeds. These stories had captivated her then, so much so she had remembered the innate little details of each. Prescribing lessons or moral quandaries to each was common fare. It wasn't lost on her now in the manner which her father dealt with her could directly be tethered in the mind to some of those stories. She was the wayward child who had tested the fence ever so often as of late. Her father perhaps viewing himself as a law bringer to her as much as he viewed himself her caretaker. As such, when he spoke in terms of his congregation, Eve could only muster screwing her face up into a rather petulant expression as if she'd just smelt rancid milk. It was clear her sour disposition to such could be derived from the past, as it in many ways was. Her own misgivings of faith, loss, anger and envy colliding to create in part the behavior of today. "Feign respect? You've got to be kidding me!" Something revolted against the girls calm lull. Perhaps in part due to the pain of burning her own hand before, and perhaps due to some former misgivings given fuel thanks to ample amounts of liquor. "You know most of those people can't even begin to claim holiness. Mr. Adams who goes around collecting donations for you? Well, he's sleeping with Mary from the choir! Right behind the back of his wife Jennifer. Ms. Hailey? She visits the same guy who sells me liquor for Xanax." Blame was easy to spread when angry. Perhaps in part to run away from personal responsibility in the matter. Either way it only served to throw the congregation right back at her father. To rub mud in that his folk was indeed filled with flawed and broken people whom in Eve's mind, he didn't help. Why now fault her when he rubbed elbows with people like that? The logical answer was somewhat apparent in that he was her father who cared for her. Another answer found in the religions practice of forgiveness for faults as all humans did indeed sin. Yet Eve found this as a sort of hypocrisy too far for her father in specific. She didn't wish to be compared to adulterers nor addicts. Irony finding strange ways to make itself apparent. Yet even as her bluster heightened to fiery rhetoric when her father stood a part of her remained stirred. Her eyes, crystal blue, would widen with pupils dilating. Hairs on the back of Evelynn's neck standing on in as she'd take a noticeable step back. A slight quiver in her lower lip occurring as the girl rolled her shoulders slightly, blue eyes seeking for anywhere but the man's stern face to gaze at. She settled on her desk lamp. Shadow had crossed over Eve as she stood lithe in the presence of her father. Her frame slinking back like a serpent whose rock had been disturbed. Seeking refuge somewhere away from the presence in front of her. It was as if Evelynn had been transported back in time. A facade stripped away to reveal the girl which had barricaded herself inside behind it. Fear had taken hold. Open lips trying to form some snarky retort to her father's chiding words. Nothing came forth from them no matter how many times she'd attempt to summon up the words. "I am not..." Her only verbalization was cut short when her father snatched her wrist. Pain in the slightest degree would shoot up her arm as she felt the man pull her wrist away from her. His fingers snatching the lit cigarette from her hand which would bring a look of genuine surprise to her face. A pathetic little, "That was mine!" In a childish tone which offered little of the bluster of before. The girl yanking fruitlessly at his grip in hopes of slipping the vice which now closed around her wrist. Her haste to escape tempered by the words which exited her father's mouth shortly thereafter. A pause occurring in Eve's very train of thought. Hesitation brought on by very deliberate emotions. Was that a hint of guilt which crossed over the teen's contorted features? Her eyes seeming to show some amount of recognition to the man's statement, some amount of empathy that was still there. Eve wasn't some horrid little girl after all. Even as she flinched at him bring his hand up in front of her as if she feared his blow that never came, she still had something heart wrenching in her eyes. Almost like she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. All that was offered was a thin warble of her own voice, "I wanted you to talk to me, not double down on the sermons..." Recollection and reconnection would have to wait, however. That train derailed by a comment which made the hackles on Eve raise almost instantly as soon as her father had said the words. Her reaction damn near poisonous compared to the fearful somber tone she had applied earlier. "And why the fuck should that matter?" Pointed, vulgar and burning with enough spite to show the walls were coming back up. Fear was there, but in her drunken stupor, Evelynn went back to the one mode of defense she knew the best. Bristling like some emotionally turbulent porcupine, she would continue to run her mouth haphazardly. "Have you been fornicating dad?! It's not like you haven't touched a woman before. What if I kissed a boy? What I do on my own time is my own time. If you wanted to police someone on their own time, it should have been mom! But no, just like your congregation you turned a blind eye. When I needed you most after the fact? You were too busy playing the town preacher to be my dad! Now you wanna make up for that?!" That was the spear point. The girl thrusting it with enough spite right in his face where it could not be ignored. Her arm jerking back as she would be forced into close confines by the wall. Her feet trying to steady her frame as she tilted her head away from his gaze. Her breathing elevated as she would stare daggers at him form the corner of her gaze.

 

[Father Figure]

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⟼[ @Spider Song || 725 Words || Gonna Pay || F-List ] ⟻​

𐌢 TIME TO FACE THE MUSIC It was rare for her father to get this angry. Though the young girl knew all the signs, had memorized them since childhood. The initial stirrings of displeasure were subtle ones. A tightening of his jaw, the way the muscle at his temple moved with a faint tic, and the short exhales through his nose as he fought to keep his composure. It was a rising fury, seen best behind his eyes, like a storm waiting to break. If Evelynn looked hard enough, she might actually see lightning behind that implacable gaze. When her father finally spoke, the words were trembling with emotion. Years of pent-up loss, sorrow, and long years behind the tenor of that voice Evelynn knew so well. The older man was not necessarily on the verge of a breakdown, but he was on the verge of a revelation, a sickening certainty that things were spiraling outside of his control. Frustration gave way to righteous indignation as the hand on her arm tightened, and this time it would leave bruises as his other hand pointed an accusatory finger at her face. The tenor of that voice cracked in the turmoil of his emotion, danger suddenly heightening the tension of the room. Little did he know that this night would be the night that led to their ruin. “Flee fornication! Every sin that a man doeth without the body; but he that committeth fornication sinneth against his own body!” Evelynn knew the line by heart, straight out of the Bible itself. Corinthians 6:18. It was as clear as day what he meant though, Bible Study had defined it with no need for qualification. A clear absolute. Avoid sexual immorality. Remove yourself from situations or behaviors that could lead to it. It was a simple command, with no gray area whatsoever. The word flee derived from ancient Greek, emphasizing urgency. Escape, run away, shun. Nor was it a childish thought, even though the 21st century mind might take askance with it. Sexual sin was a unique danger involving the body, the soul, and one’s relationship with God. And now she had sullied herself in the eyes of her father, and far worse than that. In the eyes of her Lord. “You think this is what freedom means, that this is maturity? That you can do whatever you please and it does not matter? That’s not freedom, child. That’s slavery. To desire. To the lies of the world. You’re not glorifying God; you’re spitting on the gift He gave you. Is that who you want to be?” Worse than his anger though, was the unfathomable sensation of lust that found its way deep into the pit of his stomach. That was the underlying foundation of what truly bothered him, something that he was forced to face even as he condemned her for her promiscuous activities. It was like holding a mirror up to see his true reflection, the preacher recoiling inside as he recognized some part of himself found his daughter attractive. Not only attractive, but there was another word for it, a biblical word. He was covetous. This was not mere admiration of appreciation; it was a desire to possess something that was not rightfully his to possess. It was beyond just want, festering into a form of spiritual sickness. He was envious of the other men who might have touched her, resentful of the idea that she might have craved their affections. It twisted his daughter into an object to be conquered, and that discontent roiled inside of him to the point that it made him sick. And yet, he had not let go of her. Vicious strength grabbed her roughly, pulling her away from the wall to toss her onto the bed, the spring mattress beneath creaking under the sudden force. Her Father did not join her, but he loomed at the foot of it, his hand coming to his pants. And it was there that he began to remove his belt, his voice grown rough with the harsh emotions burning inside of him. He could tell himself his intent to punish her was for the desecration of their home, but he knew the truth. It was for the desecration of her body. “Get your ass up, Eve. If you’re going to act like a brat, then I’ll treat you like one.” ​