Trixy's Pov
The light leaking somewhat through the living room curtains was the first thing I spotted as I crossed the gate. Weirdly, my parents never kept the lampshade on unless someone was still up.
I gently opened the door, hoping I could simply sneak upstairs undetected. But once my eyes adjusted to the amber glow, my hopefulness vanished.
Dad was on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his eyes fixed on me as though he were preparing the comments he was about to make. Sitting beside him, Mom had sharp eyes but more relaxed posture.
Dads's voice was too quiet; what time is it?
I bought yet another one to inhale after checking my watch. ten thirty.
The count hovered like a judgement.
Dad got up, his movements slow and precise. Trixy, you come home late much too often. Please refrain from making me stop your band activities completely.
