Chapter 2 Not Your Entertainment

ELLA

I pushed the front door open with my hip since my hands were occupied with shopping bags. The smell hit me first—one of old beer and sweat.

Jack was sprawled on the couch in the living room, surrounded by empty beer cans, eyes glued to the TV screen.

I sighed and then I trudged over to him.

I dropped one of the bags, and reached to the other to pick out the condoms.

Without saying a word, I shoved it towards him.

He sluggishly leaned up and then he took the box from me with a greasy, yellow-toothed grin. "Good girl," he slurred.

His breath smelt of alcohol and something I didn't even want to identify. It was simply horrible and I grimaced immediately.

My stomach churned and I felt like vomiting right there. Instead, I clamped my mouth shut and turned on my heel, making for my room.

As I walked away, I could feel his eyes on me.

His gaze followed me through every single step and I heard him chuckle as I disappeared up the stairs.

When I reached my room, I shut the door and dropped my bag—-it was then I realized I had left one of them downstairs. But there was no way in hell I was going back down there.

I let out a breath and sat down at the edge of the bed, leaning my forehead into my palms. It was only day one, and yet all the dreams for a fresh start were slowly dying.

It seemed all the same so far; my mother being nonchalant, my pervert drunk of a stepfather and the both of them being thorns in my flesh.

Also…those twins.

However, it was a relief that it was only a one time thing and I’d most likely never see them again.

At least, one less thing to worry about.

Or two, rather.

Are you sure you don't want to see them again?

Yes. Now, shut up Ava.

Later that evening, dinner arrived.

It was just Mom and me; Jack had mercifully passed out on the couch and his snores mingled with the TV's droning loudly.

Mom clattered around the tiny kitchen, dishing out something that vaguely resembled food. My face scrunched up in disgust as I watched.

I sat down at the rickety table and the smell of burnt meat and overcooked vegetables traveled down my nostrils and settled uncomfortably in my stomach, making it churn again.

She plopped a plate in front of me with a huff. I stared down at it.

The meal was a sad excuse for dinner—a charred piece of meat, some mushy carrots, and lumpy mashed potatoes that looked like they'd seen better days.

I raised my gaze to meet hers.

"Eat up," she muttered, more a command than an invitation.

I poked at the food with my fork, trying to muster the courage to take a bite. I couldn’t.

The food was bad and I was better off eating poison, at least I knew I’d die. If I ate this, who knew what genetically mutated beast I’d morph into?

"What's wrong with it now?" Mom asked, her eyes narrowing as she watched me.

I bit my lip, knowing that saying anything would only make things worse.

"You know, for a freeloader, you sure are picky," she hissed, "If it weren't for the money Celia sends, you'd be out on the streets."

I looked up. "I'm not criticizing, it's just—"

"Just what?" she interrupted. "If that money doesn’t come in on Saturday, I’ll kick you out and you’ll sleep on the streets. Let’s see if you can get food then and still be picky.”

Dr. Celia was more than just my therapist; she was my lifeline.

Ever since I began seeing her years ago when mom took me there, she’d taken it upon herself to assist me however she can.

Financially and otherwise.

Whenever Celia gave me money she always reminded me that the money wasn't actually from her.

Someone else was behind it, someone who was supposed to reveal themselves when I turned eighteen, she said.

I hadn’t told Mom about this because I didn’t trust her with the information.

Regardless, I was not eating this crap.

"I'm not eating that," I pushed the plate away.

"Fine, starve," she spat back, picking up the plate. "But don't you dare come crying to me when you're out on the streets."

I huffed and stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

Tears formed in my eyes, but I couldn't let her see them. Never.

I hurried back to my room and shut the door behind me.

I leaned against it, sliding down to the floor and bringing my knees to my chest.

I let the tears flow freely now.

God, I wished I could graduate soon, escape this place, and never look back. Living with them was damn unbearable.

Sometimes, I contemplated running away but I needed a roof over my head regardless, and someone to pay school bills—even though mother was barely doing enough.

Plus, now that I was in an unknown city, running away was a decision I couldn't afford at all.

So I had no choice.

However, I wished the days would move faster and perhaps, be a bit more bearable.

Midnight came and I couldn’t sleep.

I tossed and turned, adjusting the pillows over my head, but still, it didn’t drown the sounds of Jack and mom fucking like bunnies?

I could hear the creaks of their bed and their even louder moans coming from upstairs.

I wished I could pluck my ears out, or maybe crawl out of my skin, anything at all to stop this.

With a sigh, I clamped the pillow harder over my ears. It was fruitless and again didn't do much to stop their howler-monkey noises, or whatever it was that was going on in there.

Eventually, they finished and I thought I could finally have the peace and quiet I needed to sleep.

I had school tomorrow morning—my first day for that matter, and those two had managed to chisel out nearly two hours out of my rest time.

I would already feel awkward in a new school, moreso if I had hollowed, sleep-deprived eyes.

Yet, thirty minutes later I still couldn't sleep.

After what felt like an eternity, I gave up on sleep and decided to get a glass of water.

A glass of milk would have helped, but I don't think we had the luxury of that anymore.

I filled a glass from the tap and just as I was about to take a sip, I heard footsteps behind me, accompanied by the unmistakable stench of beer.

My heart leapt into my throat as I turned around.

It was Jack and he stood there, completely naked.

His eyes were leached on me, and he had a blood-curdling smirk on his face.

My eyes widened, “What the–” I breathed, the glass slipping from my trembling hand and shattering on the floor. The sound was sharp, but it barely registered over the pounding of my heart.

"What the hell are you doing?" I managed to choke out.

Jack took a step closer, and the disgusting smirk spread as a grin across his face. "J-just came to…” he trailed, staggering, “to ... see what the n-noise was," he slurred.

I took a step backwards, my body resting against the sink and my hands holding the edge of the cabinet.

My eyes darted as I searched for an escape, yet, he took a step closer.

"S-stay away from me!" I screamed but he didn’t stop coming close.

My wandering eyes stopped at his left arm side.

I could run past him and he wouldn’t be able to stop me. He was drunk anyway.

So, without another word, I ran.

My bare feet slipped on the cold floor and a shard of broken glass pierced through the soft flesh of my heel.

I ignored the pain, not stopping till I got to my room.

I slammed the door shut, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

My hands fumbled with the lock, finally securing it. I leaned against the door and my heart hammered heavily in my chest.

"Bastard," I muttered, fresh tears trickling down my eyes. I stifled, sinking to the floor once more.

Again, how could I sleep? How could I sleep when my worst nightmares were only just inches away?

Oh goodness, I hated this life.

*

I was the first person to wake up the next morning.

Mostly because I barely slept.

Quickly, I got ready and crept out of the house, trying not to wake anyone.

The last thing I needed was another encounter with Jack or a lecture from Mom.

I hurried down the street, my backpack slung over one shoulder and walked all the way down to school.

It was a straight path from my house, so I didn’t need help finding it.

Thankfully, the school day passed without incident. Almost like a breeze, nothing noteworthy happened.

I managed to navigate my classes without drawing any attention to myself and by the time the final bell rang, I felt a small sense of relief.

Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As I headed to the locker room to grab my things, suddenly, a murmur rippled through the crowd of students.

What was happening? I thought looking up, and that’s when I saw it. Them.

Tristan & Nathan. And they were walking towards me.

I felt my heart rate spike and my knees get a bit wobbly.

Now, what I didn't bargain for nor imagine, was the possibility of the two people I hoped to never meet again, being in the same school as me.

Before I could react, probably walk away, the taller one—Tristain, reached out and grabbed my hand, his grip surprisingly firm. “Ella, right?” he asked.

“Y—yeah, that’s me. How did you know my name?” I tried to pull my hand away, but he held on tight.

Nathan's hand was at the small of my back the next moment, pulling me into a tight hug. Unwillingly, I took in his scent, jasmine and wood’s bark.

I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through my body as his tongue inadvertently brushed against my ear.

I pushed him away and yanked my hand out of the taller one’s grasp, "What the hell are you both doing?" I snapped, my voice louder than I intended.

The stares from the other students quickly spread over me, making me feel even more exposed.

"Relax," the tall one said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "We’re just saying hi. Trying to be a bit friendly with you and play aroun—"

"Don't.” I cut him off harshly. “Don’t play around with me, don't prank me. I'm not here to be your entertainment."