Bette Porter, 26 years old. Yale graduate with a double degree in art history and law. Was a rising star in the art world but is now working as a lawyer.

Keep drinking coffee

Stare me down across the table

“Morning dad.” Bette grudgingly said, finally capitulating to the reason why her dad had been staring at her over the rim of his coffee cup.

“Morning Elizabeth.”

While I look outside

Bette turned to look out the window of her home in Chicago, trying to quell the irritation that was once again rising in her.

So many things I’d say if only I were able

But I just keep quiet and count the cars that pass by

She desperately wanted to get out of Chicago, to return to her first and only love – art, but Melvin Porter, intimidating man that he was, was standing in the way like he had always been.

“Alright Bette, get a grip, he’s still your father after all. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Just try not to snap at him, CONTROL.”

You’ve got opinions man

We’re all entitled to

“So Elizabeth, have you heard any news about when you’ll be getting the promotion to Assistant District Attorney? God I hope you get it over that other woman, Helena. She should be burning in hell for being a woman-lover.”

But I never asked

Bette seethed inwardly, the volcano was slowly building up and explosion was imminent. This was not the first time that her father had tried to enforce his opinions on her. Just like how he had stopped her from doing art. The biggest concession he had ever made was to allow her to study art history at Yale, and only after she had kicked up a big fuss.

But the worst part of Melvin’s latest hateful comments?

The fact that he too knew that Bette was a “woman-lover”, he was simply in plain denial over it. He refused to acknowledge her coming-out and treated it as a delusional phase in her life. By his latest comments, he was in essence condemning his own daughter to hell.

So let me thank you for your time and try not to waste any more of mine