(Ava)
From the first moment I stepped foot into the high-end restaurant Richard had taken us to, I swear I could feel my father's eyes burning into me.
My heart began to race while my palms became sweaty as I fought the urge to wipe them on my pants. I felt my back straighten, every step I took becoming mindful and exact as that perfect persona began to surface.
I always needed to be perfect..my father wouldn't expect anything less.
What was he going to say? How was he going to feel about my choice of clothes or the way I styled my hair today? Could this man who had always laid out his finely pressed clothes the night before and ate the exact same food every day for breakfast really have changed?
My father was a creature of habit..and whenever something disrupted that, he would blo
