Try To Change Me

Chapter 28

Salena gripped the edge of her seat as the van pulled to a stop at the end of her street, trying not to hyperventilate. Beside her, Finn stood up and moved to the door, opening it wide. He glanced back at her.

"Salena?" he asked, licking his lips when she didn't turn to look at him. "Salena? Are you going home?"

At 'home', she jerked her head in his direction. "Yes, of course."

Robotically, the girl rose, pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and moved to exit the van.

4am at MacDonalds.

"Yes, yes - I know," she muttered, stepping down to the sidewalk. She wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt, turning slowly back to the van to find Finn peering at her curiously.

"Know what?" He asked, leaning against the van door.

"To meet at maccas."

He laughed lightly. "Hey, I was just gonna..." The smile died on his face. "...Say that."

Salena said nothing, instead nodding firmly and swivelling towards her house. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, threatening to break a rib, and with each step her intestines knotted further. Skirting the manicured lawn, she negotiated her way to the path, wincing as her shoes ground out a tune in the pebbles. A light flickered on in the front room of her house and she stopped still. The door tore open, groaning on it's hinges and Salena slowly raised her eyes to the figure that loomed over her.

"Salena," the man growled, stepping aside slightly. Obediently, she scurried through the front door, breath hitching in her throat as she passed him. She smelled whiskey.

As the lock clicked behind her, Salena winced, and a hand clapped her around the back of the head.

"Your late!" her step-father thundered, giving her a rough shove through to the kitchen.

Salena's mother was sitting in the kitchen bench, cigarette in one hand and a stained glass of wine in the other. Her lipstick had worn away, her eyeliner smeared, and the daytime receptionist persona had dissolved. The woman took a swig of her drink.

"The brat's home." She jerked her chin at her husband, sneering at him. "Don't you have something better to do that shove the bitch around?"

In response, the man have Salena another push, one that sent her tumbling to the ground. Her head missed the counter by millimetres, but her arm wasn't so lucky. She cried out before she could stop herself.

"Shut up," her mother snapped, swinging her high-heel-ed foot so that it caught Salena across the hit. The girl managed to muffle her yelp this time.

Her step- father, Grant, made a disgusted noise. "I don't know why I put up with the two of you: the whore and her worthless bitch."

"Hey!" wobbling slightly, his wife slipped from the counter and waved her cigarette in his face. "Unlike you, I've never had to pay for a screw, dipshit."

An expression that could only be described a possession spread across Grant's face and he wrapped a grungy arm around her waist and pulled her to him. He yanked her mouth to his and Salena watched from the ground, filled with equal parts disgust and relief.

As her husband's lips moved to her neck, Salena's mother growled at her daughter. "Piss off, girl."

Without a sound, she scrambled to her feet and shuffled around them, meeting her mother's eyes. As normal, through the alcohol-induced haze, Salena could just make out a hint of remorse, a slice of pity, and a particle of regret.

"I'm sorry," she heard, as clearly as if her mother had spoken the words out loud. But she hadn't. Instead she was crooning encouragement to her husband as he slipped a hand inside her blouse and roughly grabbed her breast.