A Perfect Virgin

Chapter Eight | 08

A home is where everyone feels safe, where everyone finds endless peace, refuge, good health, and tranquility.

At the mention of the word home, a family's constructive love is what sparks anyone's curiosity, but never mine.

My notion of a home is different.

It's a reverse harem.

I let out a murderous sigh when my hands firmly grip the metallic railings of the fence, letting waves of resentment surge through me with every gulp of the lump at my throat.

My eyes squint at the daylight that oversees Graham's mansion, with the brightness, it's almost impossible to survey the courtyard for the presence of patrols or family members, most especially Morris's wife who finds beauty in pruning roses at sunset.

I climb the fence in haste, tug my purple skirt out of a blunt but twisted hook, and jump onto the large bed of nested roses at the back of the house.

My legs strike the ground with a gentle thump, crushing multiple flowers, and sinking into the soil.

If Bellatrix, the lady of the house, Morris's cherished wife is around, then she would probably dig a grave for me when she finds out about the plants.

I fix my very short dress and drag its length to cover up the bruises on my knees, but fail after multiple tries, and stroll to the front of the house as though the suppressed heiress in me was taking a relaxing promenade.

Graham's mansion is a very large and impressive building, the kind of house every wealthy and influential person owns.

The mansion is all concrete and tall glass windows that give a view of the mountains, a chance to relax and take in the changing of the seasons from the comfort of an easy chair.

It stands very high up in the blue skies like a Pennsylvanian goddess amongst oak trees and ancient pines that spreads for several miles over a massive field.

Also, its exotic architecture makes every passerby standstill to watch with parted lips at its grandeur.

It exudes extravagance with raised ceilings, swimming pools, tennis courts, expensive gardens, walking paths, water features, additional garages, and a basement to which only Morris's little family has access.

This mansion became my home after my father passed away decades upon decades back.

It's a small world of its own with ups and downs which want my existence to spiral down a drain, but I don't cease to exist, I live my life to the fullest and put myself out there for better things in the future.

As I stroll through the memories of my former home when father was still alive and mum hadn't left, there's a build-up of eagerness and yearning to reach my current room with each merchant's step I take on the lawn.

My room is my world.

And my gorgeous goodness, it's spacious and comfortable.

All that big space is necessary for me to exist as the true and vulnerable version of myself.

"Standstill, where are you from?"

I jump at the high-pitched feminine voice in the living room and fidget with the hem of my clothing, letting go of the fabric once my knees lock together to cover up the fresh bruises.

"If you don't want to respond to my question, then is best for you to go back to wherever you came from."

Bellatrix tips a coffee cup and sips before smacking her rugby-painted lips to relive the taste of the heavily scented roasted nuts on her tongue.

She retorts. "Where have you been throughout the day?"

From her relaxed features, one can tell she already knows the answer to that question.

She is setting a trap and wants me to fall shamefully into it.

Bellatrix is a very smart woman who claims to be a strong advocate for feminism and lives by the words of Virginia Woolf.

She is a woman who is passionate about good coffee, laid back, and disguised as a humble housewife.

At her orders, everyone in the house obeys, even Morris, no exception, well, I don't and just keep ambling towards the grand staircase which leads upstairs.

I'm not prepared for her insults.

Not now, not even today, because I'm never going to be ready for her queasy rants and bad mouth.

But I swirl on my heel, slightly gravitating backward, and halt when a certainly spoiled brat catches my eye with her nasty comment.

"Let her be, she was used and dumped by her boyfriend in a very shameful way."

It's Christina.

A tiny snake.

The stupid girl who thinks she has her miserable life all figured out and anyone not as wealthy as Morris is underneath her.

Little things like food and jewelry make up her happiness while she sits all day long stretching on a couch in the living room, constantly flipping through fashion magazines to prepare for her birthday which is now the most popular talk around the town.

"Mum, you needed to have seen Andrea in tears when Carlos dumped her sorry ass for a very cheap pimp."

She makes me relive the painful breakup with Carlos and my eyes shut in time to quiet the voices in my head.

Christina is just delusional.

It's a hum that suppresses the sinful urge of dragging that brat by the ears to the dungeons of hell where her porcelain skin will burn over and over till her bones turn into ashes.

And that ash will be used by her wicked mother to grow a black rose.

She doesn't stop the verbal assault, if anything, she fires more hate at me and it blows away my confidence.

She gets under my skin easily which shouldn't be the case, so the weight of losing this fight stiffens my shoulders and I brace my arms over my chest.

I choose to belittle her till she's just a smelly pile of flesh and bones, but the right words aren't coming out of my mouth when I stand my ground and bitterly point out her arrogance.

Her red acrylic nails tap silently on a fashion magazine, my words lack that venomous effect as she leans forward and laughs.

Her cheeks are red. "You should be glad he even dated a rebel like you who is dull at school, jobless, useless. You are a walking charity."

"Enough," Bellatrix snaps a hand fan close and lowers her cup onto the coffee table.

Locks of fine brown hair bounce in curls to frame the sharp borders of her face.

From her pretty looks, she's fit to be a runway model, but her attitude is so much similar to that of a hungry snake.

"Andrea, accompany me to the basement, there's something you'd want to see."

**********

Author's Note: Yes! If you are reading this then you must have read chapter eight.

Thanks for giving Andrea your attention.

Please support Andrea's story with Ernesto by voting, commenting, and sharing the story with your friends and family.

Question 1: we know something is off because that basement stuff is hinting at something fishy, what do you think Bellatrix wants to show Andrea?

Last question: which scene in the book so far has given you serious secondhand embarrassment?

Thanks for reading.