3. I WANT HER

Sophia clambered the stairs in a hurry, she was done with the conversation downstairs and it was getting annoying already. She got to the hallway that separated the room and headed down to her room, but she halted when she got to the doorway. She knew well that her father would never let Callan see their last sister if she didn't incite it. None of their sisters liked to get involved with her either, she wasn't a fan of her either but she could help her this one time. Not that Callan would ever choose her over her other sisters though, she wasn't anywhere close to attractive.

She veered around, striding back to the first room that belonged to their last sister. She knocked gingerly on the always-locked door. She heard the tiny voice of her sister and informed her that she was the one. The door pulled open a few seconds later, and she slipped and shut the door.

Her eyes wandered to her sister's tiny room, painted pink and blue. It was nothing compared to theirs, which was vast with different adjoining smaller compartments. She sighed and glared hard at her.

"Hey, Orla." She called her name.

Orla hoisted her head up to stare at her sister. She was so scared of holding her deadly glares. So, she lowered her head and forced a smile that disgusted Sophia.

"You never visit my room," Orla said. The only times her sister visited was when they wanted to remind her of how worthless she was and how she'd never amount to anything good because she was deeply loathed by their father and every single member of the family. Sophia was the only one who never said horrible things to her, but she didn't like her either. She just acted neutral around her.

"Your attention is needed downstairs, Dad wants to see you in the dining room." Her eyes ogled Orla's body, she was wearing a very long gown that appeared overly bigger than her. It didn't fit her very slender frame at all, her ginger hair was properly combed, and shiny as the sun glistened on it through the window blinds. Sophia sighed, she'd never seen Orla's ginger hair as a deterrent but her father and all of her sisters hated it so much. "Wear something more decent and go meet Dad downstairs."

Orla checked herself and shook her head. "All my clothes are like this." She said, squinting her large hazel eyes.

"Then go like this, not that he would want you anyways," Sophia mumbled harshly. "Go now, hurry before he comes to get you." She darted out of Orla's room, slamming the door with great effort.

Orla jumped in fear when the door produced a banging sound. She bent down to summon Betty, her stray cat, the white kitten hopped into her arms, snuggling up in her arms as she looked at her. She caressed her fur and walked out of her room, heading to the dining room with Betty in her arms. Betty was her only friend in the world, she listened to her rants, cared about her and made her happy even though she couldn't talk. Orla was certain that Betty loved her so much, just as she loved her too.

As Orla descended the stairs with slow gaits, she bumped into one of the maids who was on her way to serve the table. She wanted to call her back to ask what was happening in the living room, but the maid stared scornfully at her, giving her no space to talk at all. Orla smiled, everyone in the house, including the maids, disliked her so much. She'd seen how the maids treated her sisters with respect but treated her rudely like she was a slave in her father's house.

Sometimes Orla doubted if she was the daughter of Arnold Sullivan. Betty got loose and jumped out of her grip, she panicked and looked for her, her heart in her throat as she roamed around the living room. She trailed her down to the dining room, where she was hiding under the table.

Amid everyone present at the table, Orla went on her knees to get her cat, she kissed her and rubbed her fur, smiling.

"What do you think you are doing and who the hell let you out?" Arnold yelled at Orla.

Orla shrieked, rising to her feet. "I was told that my attention is needed here and that's why I am here." She was trembling in fear as she spoke to her father.

Callan leaned backwards, wondering if Orla was one of the maids because she didn't look like a rich man's daughter with her overly long gown and plain appearance.

"Who is she?" Callan asked Arnold, his eyes not leaving Orla.

"She's Orla, my last daughter," Arnold said bitterly, glaring so hard at Orla as she bowed her head to the floor and rubbed her cat's fur.

Callan took a cursory glance at her again, she was extremely thin, never the kind of woman he'd look at twice. He smiled as he watched her twinkle her innocent eyes, her aura didn't scream evil, or bogus like her sisters, she seemed original. He nodded his head and said. "She's okay."

The rest of the ladies turned their heads toward his direction. "What do you mean by that?" Mia asked unbelievably. "I thought you had class and taste, how the fuck would you say Orla is okay when I am right here in front of you?" She clasped her hands together, scoffing.

Her four other sisters seconded Mia's point, they didn't fight for Callan anymore, they wanted him to settle with Mia and never Orla. He noticed how much they hated Orla in the family, from how the father spoke harshly to her to how her sisters stared scornfully at her, uttering cuss words at her. He wondered why it was that way.

"Mom, if I am to choose from any of Arnold Sullivan's daughters then she will be the one I want." Callan stood his ground.

"Callan, just take a good look at Mia and her other four sisters and look back at her," she motioned to Orla like she meant nothing and he frowned when his mother did that. "Please choose someone else."

"Mom, you want me to get married, don't you?" He smiled, staring at his mother.

"I chose Mia for you, I told you about Mia." She whispered. "She will make a great bride, she has a good job, she's beautiful and classy and not." Elizabeth sighed, her head was beginning to ache.

"Mr Sullivan, your daughter is a Sullivan too and I can choose whomever I want, right? So, she's the one I want as my wife." Callan stated frankly.

"Wife?" Orla sounded befuddled, her eyes wandering from her father down to her sisters. She needed someone to explain what was going on.

"Yes, you are getting married to me," Callan said authoritatively and Orla wavered back, holding her cat very tightly.

"No," she shook her head, and trepidation crept into her mind. "Get married to you?" She looked over at her father who didn't give a damn about her. She was about to ask him if what Callan was saying was true but she swallowed her question. Her eyes darted from her sisters to Elizabeth, to her father and finally to Callan; she had never seen a man that gorgeous in her whole life and how could this gorgeous man want a crap like her for a wife?

"Orla is a Sullivan. As much as I would have wanted you to get married to one of my other daughters, you bluntly refused. You chose Orla and I hope that you deal with that when she's finally married to you." Arnold stared disgustingly at Orla, she quickly dropped her head before her Father's death stares swallowed her up.

"Do you agree with my decision?" Callan asked sternly. He wasn't smiling anymore, he wasn't sure why he chose Orla and deep down, he hoped he wasn't making a lifetime mistake, but even though he was, he wasn't interested in getting married. He was just doing all he had to do to make his mother happy, but she seemed so mad that Callan chose Orla instead of Mia, which she wanted.

"She's not an eligible Sullivan, she has no job, and  all she does all day is stay in her room." Mia chirped in very quickly, she was very angry now and it was evident in her countenance and her raspy voice.

"If he wants her, then let him have her." Arnold gave his conclusion.

"Dad," Orla called, swallowing a lump in her throat. "Father," she changed and Arnold looked up at her. "Please, I don't want to get married now. I am young, I am just twenty-two and…"

"Shut the hell up, Orla." 

Callan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn't appreciate how Callan was speaking to Orla and he planned to come in if he acted rudely to her again.

"You are old enough and you will get married to Callan Barlowe. That's final, you can go back to your room now." Arnold said.

Orla hugged her cat, hot tears slipping down her cheeks. She turned to leave but Callan held her back, his cold hand putting her heart to an abrupt stop, she looked back at him, his face void of emotions. 

He quickly let go of her and said. "Sit here with us to eat."

"She doesn't have a chair here at the dining table, she can't eat here," Emma muttered, kissing her teeth.

"She's my wife-to-be, I would like to see her face and ask her a few questions. Can you leave the table for her?" Callan demanded politely.

"I can't," Emma rolled her eyes. None of them would.

Callan smiled, looking over to Arnold, he said. "I think we are done here, my mother and I will leave now and we will discuss the wedding plan."

Hearing the words caused Orla's insides to rupture in fear. She was fragile, she knew nothing about men or love and now her father was marrying her off at twenty-two. Thinking of that fact caused her to sob. Even though her father's house was a mini-hell, she was still cool with caging herself in the room, conversing with her cat, she didn't want to leave to live with a man she had never seen, a man she knew nothing about.

She secretly glanced at Callan and he wasn't even looking at her. He straightened up and took his mother's hand in his, he didn't bother to look at her one more time before walking out of the house. She was certain he already forgot about her, he didn't even know that he just chose her to be his wife. She watched Callan and his Mother as they walked out of the dining room with her Father who had a sad smile on his face. He must have wanted Callan to choose Mia, his favourite daughter.

When they were out of the living room, Emma jumped to her feet and instantly slapped Orla on the face. The slap was hot and stinging, Orla held her face and stared at her sisters with bleary eyes.

"Who the fuck called you out here to snatch the man that belongs to Mia, you witch?" Amelia kicked her legs and she landed on the cold tiled floor with a loud thud that caused her butt to hurt. They pounced on her, beating her to a stupor before their father walked back inside the house. They sent her back into her room after they made sure there were bruises all over her face.

Orla cried out as she scurried to her room with Betty in her hands, she got to the room and shut the door, flopping on the bed. She rested her back on the headboard and cried so much. 

The pain her sisters inflicted on her body was too much for her, it hurt like hell, the hatred her father had for her made her chest sting and now, she was going to marry a man she barely knew, a man whose aura exuded danger, she dangled her legs on the bed, ruffling the sheets and crying out loudly. She was tired of living and she wished she could end her life right there.