You're Nothing

MILES

Slap!

The sharp sting of my mother's hand fizzled on my cheek.

"What did you say?" Her voice was so low I felt it came from hell itself.

I swallowed before turning my head back to face her. I knew she wouldn't take the news well. I had anticipated it. She never liked it when I acted on my own. It made me seem too... independent.

"I said, I can't go to dinner. I have to work." I said, my voice monotone. Damn. I probably should have lied, but it just slipped out.

This morning, she told me about having dinner with her new fiance tomorrow. Apparently, he wanted to meet the daughter of the love of his life. How he hadn't seen past my mother's vile nature was beyond me. Either way, I didn't care to go.

It wasn't as if she actually cared for me. I wasn't good at pretending we were some happy mother daughter family of two. I'd flinch when she touched me, faking affection. She's always hated me and never let me forget it.

I'd been working at a diner across the tracks for three months now, trying to save enough to live on my own. I couldn't tell her about the job since I knew she'd force me to quit one way or another. I turned eighteen in just a week, and she wouldn't be able to keep her leash on me. I had a shift tonight. So no, I wouldn't make her stupid dinner.

My mother raised her hand, curling it into a fist, and swung it towards me. Before she could hit my face, I crouched down, curling myself into a ball as she pounded on my back. It was my defense mechanism when she went on a rampage.

"You little bitch! Who told you you could have a job, huh? What the fuck for? I already sacrifice every fucking day for you to live!"

That was a bit of a stretch. She worked as a nurse and she actually got paid pretty well but not a single penny was spent on me unless we had to make appearances. I pretty much fended for myself.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain. 'I guess new bruises will join the old ones,' I thought.

The beating had become numbing to me. Did I feel the pain? Yes. But I had gotten painstakingly good at putting myself in a small box, keeping everything that could hurt me outside. Even though my mother was yelling, it sounded muffled, and even though each pound of her fist hurt like hell, I imagined her pounding outside my little box trying to get in. Like tricking my brain into thinking she couldn't reach me, into numbing the pain.

She persisted in pounding on my back like a crazed gorilla for several more minutes, throwing a few kicks to my ribs before she finally stopped.

"You will be at dinner tomorrow, or you can kiss that job goodbye."

I whipped my head at her, eyes wide. She was going to let me keep my job? She sneered down at me with her bright blue eyes from where she stood. "Do I make myself clear?"

No. She was holding it hostage.

I nodded immediately. I still had so much to save.

"Now get out. I don't want to see your face."

I rose, and as I opened the front door to walk out, I felt a hard kick on my back, and I stumbled, falling on the concrete porch on my hands and knees.

"Don't forget Miles," I heard from behind me. "You're nothing."

I flinched as she slammed the door. I stayed on my hands and knees, taking deep breaths and ignoring the stinging behind my eyes. I had stopped questioning why my mother hated me a long time ago. It had been this way as far as I could remember. At first, it was strictly verbal. She wouldn't hesitate to tell me how sick of me she was or how she hated the sight of me. Then, when I turned 12, she slapped me for the first time. I guess it was because I looked like my father. I don't remember much of him, but I did know that his eyes were the same gray, almost lavender shade as mine.

My mother, Candice Valentine, had fair skin and blonde hair that she dyed to a strawberry blonde. She was a petite woman but as fit as an athlete. She ran four miles every morning to keep her perfect figure nice and tight. My mother was beautiful. Her soft blue eyes, small nose, and full pink lips fit perfectly inside her heart-shaped face. If only people knew what nightmare she could be.

I looked nothing like her. I stood at least a foot taller than her with olive skin and long, straight black hair that reached my ass. If I did have anything from her, it was my mouth, full and pink just like hers, but other than that, no one would assume she was my mother. She hated it when she'd introduced me, and people would say, "My she must look just like her father. I'd have never guessed!"

I'd get a beating at home after that.

I took one more breath before getting up and dusting off my clothes. The late night summer air hit my face and I breathes it in, jealous how it could flow every which way with nothing to hold it back. I wanted more than anything to be like that.

A buzzing vibrated in my back pocket, and I took out my phone. It was already past ten in the evening.

Kenzie: let's drink up bitch! address in the link. wear something sexy 😉

Looking down at myself, I sighed. I was in Jean shorts and a tank with a flannel with sleeves that I rolled up to my elbows. This was as sexy as it was going to get. I needed a drink anyway. Maybe a few. I looked back at my house. She wouldn't let me back inside for a few hours. I might as well try to have some fun. I texted my best friend Kenzie back.

Miles: omw

There was nothing better to do on a Friday night in our small town.

***

The house was on the nicer side of town, so it took me three bus rides, much to my wallet's dismay, to get there. It would have been two, but I had to stop and patch up my knees first. They busted open when I fell and I couldn't go to a party with bloody knees. Having gauze patched on them wasn't pretty either, but it was better than the alternative.

I had to walk at least a mile to get to the house from the given address. Walking up to it gave me an uneasy feeling. The damn thing was a mansion. It could have been a fucking castle. How did Kenzie manage to get into a party like this? I couldn't imagine that hanging out with a bunch of rich pricks was fun. I pulled out my phone to text Kenzie that there was absolutely no way I was going to attend this party.

Maybe I could make it to the diner and work a shift. They were open 24 hours a day, so I could let Sandra go home to her babies.

Just as I was typing the words, I heard Kenzie in the distance.

"There's my girl!"

My head snapped up, and Kenzie was running towards me, her short red hair bobbing. When she reached me, she pulled me into an embrace. I tried not to wince as she squeezed me but must have failed since she let go of me quickly and searched my eyes. I think I gave her something between a smile and a grimace.

"What the hell was that?" She demanded. Kenzie was more of a mother to me than my own. She'd been my best friend since third grade ever since she punched Chance Porter in the face for pulling my hair.

"Nothing." I answered innocently.

She crossed her arms and squinted her eyes suspiciously. "That bitch did it again didn't she?"

I didn't answer her. Instead, I looked over at the mansion behind her. "How did you get into a party like this, and why did you think I'd wanna come?"

She rolled her pretty green eyes at me. "Nice try. I know something happened, but fine, we can deflect. For now. But you will tell me by the end of the night!" She pointed her finger at me for good measure.

I nodded my head once and gave her a firm, "Yes, ma'am!," before smiling. Kenzie put her arm over my shoulder (which I did a much better job at not wincing) and led me inside.

"Conner, the college guy, invited me. There's also a few people from school here. I'm honestly surprised you didn't hear about it."

"You're the only person I talk to Kenzie."

She opened her mouth to protest but closed it back up. "That's true." She squeezed me, which hurt and added, "but I don't like sharing anyways!"

We made it inside, and it was bustling with people. Laughter and loud music were heard throughout the place as we walked into the large foyer. It had marble flooring, so shiny I could see our reflection. To my right, I saw what looked to be a parlor room where some people sat and drank, and others were in a heated make-out session. To the left was a large hall, and as we made our way through, it led to a living room where people were dancing, moving their bodies to the upbeat music.

"Pretty nice, right? Now come on! Let's get lit bitch!"

I laughed as I let her lead me around room after room, handing me shots and mixed drinks. It only took about three shots to get me on a good buzz, then adding the mixed drinks, I was almost drunk. We danced and made small talk with different people. I was actually having fun, the bruises on my back forgotten.

After a while, we found our way to a game room.

"Alright! Who wants to challenge the pool champion for a chance to win some money?!"

Did he say pool? I found my way, swaying towards the voice with the challenge. There, next to a beautiful pool table, was a man with brown hair and hazel eyes and a shit eating grin on his face as we waved several hundred dollar bills around. Before thinking, I raised my hand. "Me! I'll do it!"

The man raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, well, well, little lady, we don't discriminate, so come on up!" He drawled.

I giggled, the alcohol in my system making my head fuzzy. I was walking up when a hand pulled me back. Spinning my head around, I saw Carla Delano gripping my arm hard. She had her dark eyes on me, her face twisted in a sneer.

She was always out to get me. She's hated me ever since her boyfriend tried to make a move on me last year. Not my fault he was a sleeze bag.

"You don't want to play with trash, guys. You'll waste your time." She sneered.

I rolled my eyes and tugged my arm out of her hold, making me stumble in the process. I waved my arms for balance. Snickers were heard all around. Before I could respond, Kenzie bumped Carla on the shoulder, coming to stand next to me.

"Fuck off Carla, this an adult party. Go to Chuck E. Cheese if you want to throw a tantrum."

A loud laugh escaped my lips, and I slapped a hand over my mouth, which caused others around us to laugh, too. I was too drunk for this.

Carla bristled in anger, flipping her chestnut hair over her shoulder. "How did you even get in here? It was invite only."

Kenzie chuckled. "Was it whores only? I'm so sorry we didn't get the memo."

At this point, Carla turned red and stormed off, laughter following her. Kenzie turned to me and winked.

"You still game, little lady?" The man said behind me.

I nodded as I walked up to the pool table and ran my finger along the top rail. It really was beautiful.

"It's a hundred to enter."

I gaped. That much? Fucking A! Did he think we were made of money? I almost smacked my head. Of course he did. We were in a mansion. Rolling my eyes, I pulled out my old, worn leather wallet. I only had 40 bucks, so I slapped it on the table.

"Its all I got but I can guarantee I'll win." I said with challenge. The man laughed and raised a brow, seemingly looking somewhere behind me.

He finally met my eyes and said, "Challenge accepted."

I smiled wide and held out my hand. "The name's Miles, and you are?"

He took my hand. "Marcus," he greeted, placing a kiss atop my fingers.

"I look forward to beating you." I said with excitement. Marcus only laughed and said, "Oh, I'm not the one you're playing."

I tilted my head confused. "What? Then who -"

"That'll be me," said a deep voice from behind me. I suppressed the shiver that threatened to go up my spine as I turned around. Standing at the end of the pool table stood the most handsome man I'd ever seen.

Kenzie was at my side as fast as lightning.

"Oh no." She said, gripping my arm. "That's Dominic Black, the owner of this house."