Chapter 1.

Zia

It's been 3 months since I last saw the mysterious man who bought out Ouma's bakery. As expected, Ouma was shocked and nearly accused me of stealing everything. However, she realised that the money accounted for everything that wasn't there.

When I got to work the next morning, as I opened the door, Chris appeared out of nowhere, scaring the crap out of me. He wore an oversized sweater and pulled the hood over his head, almost covering his face. I would not have seen the fresh bruises on his face if I had not crouched. 

He apologised to me for causing me to be scared and for his actions from the previous day, recognising that his behaviour was inappropriate. I agreed with him but didn't feel his apology was necessary. There was a look of panic on his face as he continuously scanned his surroundings. 

I hadn't seen him since. 

I stood in the kitchen, as I scrolled through my phone, passively responding to my friend's texts that would come in every once and then. They said they couldn't talk to me as often as they used to because of school, and I completely understood as much as I envied them. 

I wish I could go to school as well. 

I had always wanted to be a nurse, and when I was in high school, I thought I would get the opportunity to explore it as a career choice; however, looking at my family's finances, I wouldn't be able to do that. So, I thought I should do something funded by the government–teaching, but of course, my stepdad managed to convince my mother that it wasn't a liable route and that I should work and bring money home. 

That day, I believe I tasted all the different colours of hate that existed, and every day, it leaves a bitter aftertaste. Like right now, why did he have to walk in? I locked my phone when his gaze met mine, and I knew he would ask me what I was smiling for. Grabbing the pot from the cabinet, I switched on the stove and began cooking dinner for the family. I wish I could just not include him in it, but that would be a problem for others. 

"Why aren't you at work?" He snarled as he opened the fridge, reaching for his favourite alcoholic beverage. 

"Why aren't you?" I asked back as I opened the water and filled the pot halfway. 

"What did you say?" He looked at me with his lips lifted, and I rolled my eyes, choosing not to answer. "You're a very disrespectful little girl. I can't wait for you to leave this house," he pointed his disgusting finger at me, and I scoffed as I focused on chopping the vegetables, just the vegetables I had to remind myself. 

"Believe me, I am counting down the days." 

"Might be sooner than you expect it to be, mark my words," he clicked his tongue as he sat down on his maroon sunken loveseat couch and switched on the TV. Why won't that couch just open up and swallow him whole already?

"Can't wait, jackass," I grumbled as I continued preparing tonight's meal. 

"And don't burn the food!" FUCK YOU! "Your food tastes like shit."

"If you don't like it that much, why don't you cook then?" I snapped as I dropped the knife on the chopping board and slammed my hands on the plastic counter he had installed. How it had not fallen just yet surprised me. 

"Who do you think you're talking to like that? I'm older than you!" He spat, still glued to that stupid couch. 

"And? What then? Am I supposed to keep quiet?" I crossed my arms over my chest, and his nostrils flared as he noticed I wasn't threatened with the line that always got me to shut up. 

"Zia, I will fuck you up!" He raised his hand, pointing a threatening finger in my direction–again, still seated on that ugly couch. 

"I dare you, get up!" I screamed, and the creaking door swung open, and my mom put her hand on my shoulder, gently pulling me back. "Why!" I screamed at her, frustrated she had stepped in again, for nothing to change. 

"Go to work. I'll finish cooking," she whispered, and my chest expanded as I took a deep breath. I could feel the tears build up as I stared at her, disappointed again. 

"Whatever," I whispered as I softly nudged her hand off me. I went to grab my bag from my bedroom, and I could hear that man grumbling to my mother about how disrespectful I was, as if I wasn't a reflection of his behaviour. As I passed my mother, to leave the house, he wanted to have the last word in. 

"Fucking bitch," he grunted and spat on the ground. I looked at my mother, waiting for her to defend me, yet she said nothing. 

"I'm not surprised," I said as I closed the door and went to work. 

On my way to work, I swallowed any emotion from that dumb altercation. What he said didn't hurt me, but my mother's inability to fight for her own daughter frustrated me and made me want to hate her. Those thoughts made me feel even more frustrated. How could a child hate her own mother? 

"Why are you standing out here?" A warm voice asked, and I turned to face the person. He had tied his hair back in a low bun, with a few hairs escaping the kept style. I couldn't help but notice that the storefront door was still open because it was only afternoon, and let out a sigh of frustration. 

"I don't know," I answered honestly as I entered the store and greeted one of the afternoon workers. Today was my day off, but I had no idea where to go. "Do you want anything?" I asked the man, sparing him another unfocused glance. He chuckled and stood against the counter. 

"Why? Are you buying?" He smiled, and I shook my head. 

"No, I'm serving," I told him as I walked around the counter and grabbed an apron, tying it around my waist. "You can take a break, and keep all the afternoon tips, too," I said to the afternoon server, and she happily went to the staff room. 

"That's a bit unfair on you, isn't it?" The man asked, and I raised my eyebrow as I looked up from the monitor. "Giving her all the tips, even though you're the one working."

"It's not my shift." I shrugged as I placed my hands on the counter. "Have you decided what you'd like?" I tilted my head to the side, and he smiled. If I weren't so pissed, I would have thought he was handsome.

"An iced latte, please," he smiled, and I nodded as I typed in the monitor the order. After passing him his slip, I started his drink, and he still stood there, scrolling away on his phone. Once I was done, I passed him his drink. 

"Thank you," he said softly, taking a long sip of his drink. I didn't mean to frown, but how could anyone drink something so cold like that? Won't his teeth ache? 

"Ahh," he sighed as he looked at it, giving an approving nod. "It's good, and deserves a great tip," he said as he took out the bill that I had never received as a tip and threw it in the jar. 

I see. Wow.

"She'll surely be happy today," I commented as I stared at him, and he had a stupid smirk growing on his face. 

"Hmm, see you soon." He waved as he left the store, and I stared at her jar once more, regretting why I told her all the tips would be hers. I shrugged and decided to clean up around the cafe a bit to distract myself from my thoughts. 

Today has just been shitty, and I want to go to bed now.

After assisting until evening, I left the store and walked home painfully slow, hoping I never arrive. When I reached the house, I stared at the door, and I could see the light peeking through the cracks. I touched the red-painted, cracked wooden door and gently nudged it open. As soon as I entered, I could hear my stepfather cackling and was disappointed he didn't choke on his alcohol and die. 

Another day with him alive, I guess. Hopefully, he dies in his sleep.

"Zia!" Zach cheerfully screamed as he ran toward me. He hugged my waist and looked up, pressing his chin on my belly. "You're back early today!"

"Did you miss me that much?" I asked as I picked him up and kissed his cheek. Even though I hated his father, my little brother was the only person I tolerated in this house and loved him to death. He was the best thing to ever come from his father. 

"Hmm!" He nodded, showing his gummy smile. "You have to help me with my homework," he giggled as I rolled my eyes. 

"Zia?" my mother called out, her eyes were stained red, and I wondered if something had happened. She sniffled and I looked at my stepdad and frowned. "Please go to the room for a bit. I need to talk to your father." 

"Not my father," I said, carrying Zach with me. 

"Not anymore," he roared with laughter, and I rolled my eyes as I went to my room. 

I helped Zach work on his homework, and he fell asleep as soon as he was done. Brushing his messy hair back, I smiled softly as I looked at why I was willing to stay in this cursed house. 

I wish there were some way I could change his life for the better. 

Deciding to get some water before I went to bed, I walked out of the bedroom and heard my mom sobbing. 

"Please! There has to be some other way. I can't let you do this." 

Are they getting divorced?

"It's already been decided, and this is the only way!" He snapped as he clicked his tongue; I can take that tone, but who did he think he was talking to? 

"What are you guys talking about?" I asked as I leaned against the couch I loathed. The two stood in the centre of the room, with the TV's soft sound filling the silence. The pig smirked as he looked at me. He seemed happy about something. "Ma?" I asked softly, and she raised her hands as she took small steps toward me, but he beat her to the punch. 

"You're getting married!" He chuckled and clapped his hands. "You're finally leaving my house, hehe!" He raised his hands as if praising the Lord for his blessing. 

I stared at my mother silently, and she buried her face in her hands, while her husband continued dancing like a fool. I didn't really feel anything, and even if I did, I couldn't tell what it was. 

Swallowing hard, I looked at the fool and smiled. "Great."