I haven’t written anything new in so long, I forgot how to format dialogue 
. But I love this prompt and am actually pretty happy with how my story turned out. Will you tag me in the next prompt?
TW: Death and implied murder
knocking
You park the car in his neighborhood. With mascara all over your red cheeks, you walk up to their house. With shaking hands, you knock against the wooden door - waiting for the creaking noise to ring in your ears.
“Dee, you can’t be here!” came the hushed whisper of the man standing behind the doorframe. His greasy hair was a sharp contrast from his usual put-together appearance. Jake Golding, prominent businessman, heartthrob, and my ex-boyfriend. The man who had been the cause of all of my public scrutiny.
“Don’t you dare call me that!” I snapped. “We are long past using nicknames.”
“Okay Deena,” he responds coolly. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you.”
“About what?” he asks quizzically. “We haven’t spoken in three months.”
I pause. Has it really been that long? “About your father,” I sigh.
“What about him?” he questions.
I hesitate, wondering if it’s a good idea to tell him. “He’s dead,” I reply.
Jake’s face turns an ashen gray. His eyes search my face, looking for any signs of being deceived. “What?” he barks. “Deena, is this some kind of sick joke?” Jake sinks onto his knees, his head hungover, body shaking uncontrollably.
“I’m dead serious,” I said somberly. “They said it was a car crash.”
“Did they see the body?” he cries. “Are they sure it’s him?”
“Not sure, but it’s all over the news.”
“Oh god Deena, oh god, oh god.”
While he may have been my ex, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for telling him. Was I the first to let him know about this?
Jake’s face shifts. He looks up at me with angry, bloodshot eyes. “Why did you come here, Deena?” he demands. “We haven’t spoken in months, but then you come to announce my father’s death?” He rises to his feet. “I know why you came,” he says. “You wanted to rub it in my face, didn’t you?”
“Jake, I-”
“No.” he cuts me off. “No.” Jake looks me straight in the eyes. “You came because you wanted to see me in pain, didn’t you?” he says, with an eerie calmness to his voice. “After all the pain I’ve caused you, you wanted to see me cry.”
“Jake, please.” I plead.
“Get away from me, Deena!” he shrieks. “Go away and never set foot on this property again, you hear me?”
“Jake!” I cry out.
“Deena!” he screams back, mocking me. “Get away from me, you monster!”
I sigh. “I’m going, I’m going!” I mutter, my back already turned. As I walk down the warped stairs of Jake’s porch, I can’t help but feeling content. As messed up as it seems, It was satisfying to watch him cry. As I reach my SUV, I ultimately realize the weight of the secrets held in that blue hatchback.
“You doing okay in there?” I ask the trunk.
No reply, of course. I hop in the driver’s seat and put the car into reverse. Jake is still there, hunched over on the porch. I muster a laugh. He truly got what he deserved. I hear something shift in the trunk and let out an exasperated breath.
“I promise you he’ll be fine, Mr. Golding.”