Eat Your Vegetables

MILES

If my mother was angry that I never came home last night, she sure didn't show it.

After finding my shorts in the middle of the garden at Dominic's mansion, I checked my phone. There wasn't a single message from her, which had me freaking out. It was scarier when she was silent.

I did, however, have 30 missed calls and 103 unread messages from Kenzie. Who the hell sends that many text messages?

Finding my way out of the mansion to catch a bus home, I skimmed through them.

Kenzie: Where the fuck are you?

Kenzie: Are u OK?

Kenzie: I SWEAR IF YOU DONT ANSWER MY FUCKING PHONE CALL, ALL HELL WILL BREAK LOOSE!!!!

I quickly dialed her number.

"I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" I closed my eyes, holding the phone away from my ear as she yelled at me.

"Aren't you gonna ask if I'm okay?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light.

"Are you okay?"

"Never better."

"Good. Now get your ass here so I can kick it!" Overbearing mother: activated.

She was always dramatic when it came to me. It was nothing new for her to give me a lecture if she couldn't reach me. It was like a second nature for her worry about me. Kenzie was the only person who knew about what my mother did to me and tried to make it a personal mission to stay over at my house as long as she could to prevent my mother's abuse. But she had been away this summer with her family, hence the fresh and old bruises on my back.

I sat listening to Kenzie rant about my irresponsible behavior on the bus ride home, responding with a "yes, I understand," or, "it'll never happen again."

When I got off the bus to make the final walk to my house, I had to get off the phone with her. My nerves started to do that thing they did when dread came knocking. Picking at my fingernails, I trudged the uphill street leading me home, and by the time I made it to the front door, more than a few were bleeding. Her car was in the driveway.

I checked under the empty pot for the house key, but it was gone, so I tried the door. It was unlocked. Walking in, I searched around the living room and kitchen looking for any sign of my mother. I thought about calling out to her but panicked and went straight to my room, closing the door with a soft click.

"Miles? You home?" My mother sang.

Shit.

I scrambled around my room, trying to change my clothes as quickly as I could, tearing off my flannel, tank, and bra, but I wasn't fast enough as she opened my door and gasped. I stood frozen with my back to her. Chancing a glance at her, I slightly turned my head.

She stood at my door with a stony face, taking in my bruises.

Honestly, it scared me. I didn't know if she was regretting making them or regretting that my skin was so sensitive. Probably the latter.

"Oh dear, you must have had quite a night out with your friends." She said, her tone kind but her eyes void of emotion.

My brows furrowed in confusion. What the fuck? Why was she talking like that?

"Miles, my love, get ready so we can do a little shopping before dinner, okay?"

I was officially shocked. Maybe I had drunk myself into a stupor and accidentally died from alcohol poisoning. That made more sense than this. She never talked to me like that. Not even on holidays.

My mother chuckled lightly, and it was music to my ears, like a siren's song leading me deep into the ocean to drown.

"Hurry now, I need your help with picking out a dress for tonight." And then she giggled like schoolgirl with a crush.

"Oh hush," she said. "I'll see you tonight." a pause, "yes, you too love. " Another pause. "Okay. Muah!"

Oh.

She was on the phone. I hadn't noticed because she was using Bluetooth headphones.

As soon as she tapped her ear and hung up, she sneered at me.

"Wipe that surprised expression from your face and take a shower. You smell like piss." With that, she turned on her heel and left.

After a much needed shower and clean clothes, I headed to the kitchen to make myself something to eat. I got to work making a simple bologna and cheese sandwich. Before I could take a bite, it was slapped out of my hands. It plopped on the floor with a slap.

"Do you think my house is some kind of hotel? You can wait until dinner to eat." My mother rounded the small island and grabbed her car keys. "Serves you right little bitch. Now let's go, I need you presentable tonight and it'll take a whole fucking salon to make that ugly face look decent."

I stared at my sandwich, angry that she had just wasted food. I cleaned it up quickly before following her out to the car. It would earn me a slap if we came back and it was still on the floor.

***

Shopping with her was fucking exhausting. I could hardly stomach her fake affection for me. Every squeeze of my arms or rub on my back felt like needles prickling my skin. I almost threw up the alcohol I drank last night.

By the time we picked a dress for me and her, went to the salon, (which she hated because the stylist told me I hardly needed anything done. A natural beauty she called me) and bought shoes, I was starving. My stomach was rumbling so hard it started to hurt. Now that I thought about it, I had hardly eaten anything yesterday either.

I dressed carefully, so I didn't mess up the curls the nice stylist did on my hair. The dress my mother chose for me was a simple formal round neck, short sleeve medi dress in the shade blossom pink. It was the nicest dress I'd ever worn, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it. The girl in the mirror looked refined, strong. Except for the bruises she was littered in. They were on her face, along her arms and legs. All from the abuse she endured. I took a deep breath, blinked, and they were gone.

My stomach growled again.

Dinner could not come fast enough. I had to hold myself back from the excitement of eating dinner on the way to my mom's new fiancé's house.

When I saw us entering the nicer side of town, I raised my eyebrows. I guess she had snagged some rich guy. Hopefully, he wasn't a sick bastard like her last boyfriend.

I banished the thought, not wanting to even think it back into existence.

We finally pulled up to a large mansion. I mean, it was huge. And also vaguely familiar. I wondered if all the mansions in the neighborhood had the same layout like all the houses in ours.

Walking up to the entrance after parking the car made me nervous. 'It's okay,' I told myself, 'just a few more days until you're free.'

I just had to hang on a little bit longer.

My mother grabs my arm and squeezes. Hard.

"Don't fuck this up for me or you'll regret it." She said under her breath. I don't bother replying. I'd be glad if she successfully married this guy so that maybe she'd have someone else to busy herself with.

Before we could ring the doorbell, the door opens, and we're greeted by a tall butler with graying hair and dark brown eyes. He inclined his head in greeting.

"Welcome, Ms. Valentine. Please, come inside. Mr. Black has been expecting you."

Black? Why did that sound  familiar?

As we enter, we are led to the dining area where a dark-haired man sits waiting. He looks familiar, like I've seen him somewhere before. He's handsome and has chiseled features with honey brown eyes. He sees my mother and rises to meet her. She lets go of me and embraces him in a hug, and they share a light kiss. Gross.

"There's the woman of the hour. I've missed you." he told her, his face nuzzling hers.

I kind of just stood there awkwardly waiting for them to finish their little love show. I knew it was fake. I knew my mother wasn't capable of actually loving someone. I'd never seen it. But what did I know?

Mr. Black glances at me, and I'm shocked by the amount of warmth in his eyes as he takes my hand in both of his.

"You must be Miles. I've heard so much about you and I must say I am glad to welcome you to my family. My name is Maverick Black." His voice dripped with honey the same shade as his eyes, and I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. I almost tear my hand away, but I give him a small smile instead.

"It's nice to finally meet the man who has been making my mother happy." I could vomit from the fake joy in my voice.

He pats my hand kindly and looks between me and my mother. Oh no. He was going to comment on how different we look from each other.

"You have your mother's face shape and her lovely smile!"

If the man could see the shock on my face, he sure didn't show it.

For the first time ever, my mom turns to me and actually beams a smile. I almost choked on air. It was the first time I'd seen her ever look proud to be my mother. And I hated that my heart clenched when I saw it.

When introductions were finished, the butler motioned for us to take a seat at one end of the obnoxiously large dining table. Mr. Black sits at the end with my mother sitting adjacent to him, me next to her. I shifted in my seat because I'm so damn uncomfortable.

Mr. Black was suspiciously warm and kind. The way he spoke to my mother would have anyone knowing just how much he loved her. He even tried to include me in conversation, to which my mother strategically pushed me out of. What was his angle? Was he a secret pervert? Did he make some sick deal with my mother to lock me up? There had to be something wrong with him if he fell for my mother's cheap tricks. Either that or he was just plain stupid.

Soon, servants dressed in vests and slacks emerged from a side door with plates of food that smelled like heaven, and my stomach growled again, catching the attention of Mr. Black, my mother, and the servants. My mother gave me a tight smile, squeezing my leg hard under the table. Mr. Black just chuckled, and he said, "I'm quite famished as well."

My cheeks turned red but not from embarrassment. It was from the nails that were digging into my thigh. She let go as soon as one servant rounded the table to set down our plates.

My mouth watered, looking at the glistening pink salmon, roasted potatoes, and grilled vegetables.

"Dear, shouldn't we wait for your son?" Asked my mother.

Son? I'd have a stepbrother?

Mr. Black waved a hand. "It's alright. Sometimes, his practice runs late. Please, feel free to start eating."

I knew better than start before my mother, so I took two big gulps of water to keep my stomach from growling. As annoyed as I was that she kept chatting about this and that, I waited patiently with my hands in my lap until finally she picked up her fork and took a baby bite of her food.

Thank God.

I picked up my fork next and stabbed a potato, lifting it to my mouth when Mr. Black boomed, "Ah! Son, you made it just in time!"

I should have eaten my potato before looking over at said son because the moment I did, I let it drop back on my plate with a splat.

Black. I knew that name was familiar.

Mr. Black's son was Dominic.

Fuck my miserable life! I wanted to smack myself repeatedly or provoke my mother so she'd do it for me. Of course, the guy I had mind-blowing sex with just last night was my future stepbrother.

"Sorry I'm late, practice was -"

He spotted me. Shit. I didn't know what to do. I sat frozen with my empty fork in front of my open mouth.

"No worries, Dom. Come, meet Candice and her daughter Miles."

My mother and I stood as he introduced us. I kept my eyes down, afraid to look at him. He shook my mother's hand then held it out for me. I took it finally peeking up at him which was a mistake. His golden eyes burned like forging metal as he smiled at me. It did not reach his eyes.

My treacherous body trembled as he squeezed my hand hard enough to hurt.

When we were seated once again, I mourned my dying hunger, taking sip after sip of my cold water, too nervous to actually eat. The servants had to refill it three times already. My throat just felt so dry from the heat of Dominic's stare.

"Miles!" I jumped. "At least eat your vegetables!" My mother chastised.

So I did. And they tasted like dread.

I was so fucked.