A fractured fairytale

32

༻ Rose's POV ༺

Matt rolled up outside of my house Monday after school. "I won't be long," I told him as I hopped out of the car. I slammed the door behind me before he could say anything and sprinted across the street.

He'd told me to wear something comfortable but said I'd probably be too warm in my jumper so we'd rushed back so I could get changed. Once again, I didn't know where we were going but I'd given up grilling him for information because that man knew how to keep a secret. It was both infuriating and really sweet that he kept everything a secret, knowing it would only make it more exciting for me when the time came.

My lungs wheezed and my legs shook under my weight as I attempted to run up the stairs but on the final flight, I ended up practically dragging myself the rest of the way. I waited outside the apartment for a couple of seconds to catch my breath and couldn't help but smile at the screeching sound coming from next door. Kelsey was obviously awake.

I could still hear her cries when I stepped into my apartment, shutting the door behind me. This building had thin walls – I could often hear our downstairs neighbour flush their toilet. "Hi sweetheart," my mom called, a smile of her face when she spotted me.

Before I said a word, I glanced to my left, to where the camera sat. Or at least it did. My eyes widened when I saw it had gone. "He removed it this morning," my mom explained, clearly knowing what I was looking for. I must've missed that when I rushed out this morning.

A sinking feeling stirred in my stomach. "Why?" I asked.

I saw her swallow and her left hand raised to the bruising all down the side of her face. She'd been so badly beaten recently, ever since he found out about her sneaking off during the day. "He felt guilty," she said, her smile small and clearly forced.

I narrowed my eyes and scanned the apartment for the usual signs. A vase of flowers sat on the kitchen table. Pretty pink roses – my mother's favourite. A new piece of jewellery sat around her neck too. A glittering heart pendant only drawing more attention to the small thumb shaped bruising all around her throat. I nodded slowly, understanding washing over me like a tidal wave.

He often went through phases. After a period of violence and anger, he'd have a short amount of time where he felt guilty, where he'd try and fix things, make things right. That usually included buying gifts for us and staying with friends to give us some space. He monitored his intake of alcohol a little more during those periods, didn't take things as far as usual.

But the thing about these short bursts of peace was that they never lasted. And they were always, always followed by an even worse eruption. He'd start to experience withdrawals, start to crave the drink again. And it would be our fault he couldn't have it. Without that crutch, he'd start to become erratic and irritable in a different way to usual. It was more unpredictable, more frenzied. Those times always scared me more than when he was actually drinking.

"He wants us all to go out this weekend," she continued when I hadn't said anything. "He's staying away until then, but he wants to spend some time as a family."

I assessed my mother, noting all the bruises marring her skin, the way her clothes hung off her slim figure. She hardly ate anymore. And not just because there wasn't much food in the house for her to eat. Her skin was pale, so pale it was sickly. She looked unwell. But right now, there was spark in her eyes, a small, glittering light. I'd seen it before, over and over and over again.

Hope.

When dad was feeling guilty and apologetic, she always held that small flicker of hope. Like she truly believed that, this time, it could last.

It never did.

"Okay," I said with a nod. I couldn't exactly refuse.

I brushed past her and dropped my bag onto the couch. "Do you have a top that I could borrow?" I asked her. "Something niceish?"

Her smile brightened a little. "Maybe we could ask your dad to take us shopping Saturday morning," she said with a small shrug, "we could both get something nice to wear for the occasion."

I frowned. "I didn't mean for the meal. I'm going out with Matt," I explained.

The smile on her face melted away, causing my frown to deepen. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked. "After the last time?"

"You just said he's staying away until the weekend."

She took a step towards me. "Yes but, he's in a good mood at the moment, Rose. It's best we don't rock the boat. We don't want to make him angry."

Despite the fact she was just as much of a victim of his assaults as me, I couldn't help but snap back. "We never rock the boat!" I exclaimed. "I've never had friends over or gone out without his permission or done anything that might make him angry! But that doesn't stop him from getting angry anyway."

"Rose-."

"No!" I shook my head, stepping closer to her. "He might be in a good mood right now but we both know it won't last, mom! It never does." That light in her eyes dimmed but she kept the false smile painted across her lips.

"This might be the time it does."

I couldn't help but scoff. "It won't be."

"Sweetheart, just-."

"I'm going out with Matt, mom," I cut her off, not interesting in anything she had to say. Hearing her defend him, hearing her choose his side and his 'good mood' over my happiness had a lump forming in my throat and I knew whatever she was about to say would hurt. "Being with him makes me happy," I told her, the emotion bleeding through in my tone. "I just want to be happy."

Her features softened and whatever light flickered in her eyes extinguished. "I want that too. I'll go and have a look in my wardrobe, I'm sure I've got something you could wear."

"Thank you."

She walked away to her bedroom and I dropped onto the sofa, suddenly feeling exhausted. I never argued with my mom, never disagreed with her and not once, when she'd been hopeful that things would get better, had I told her she was wrong. Once upon a time, my parents were madly in love with each other and I know every now and then, she catches glimpses of the man she fell for, before he drowned in the alcohol.

But for me, it's been too long. Too much damage had been done. I barely remember the man that was my dad, that walked me to school, that braided my hair and read me a story before bed. He was the reason I loved to read. It was our thing once upon a time. But he hadn't picked up a book in years. Hadn't smiled at me like he used to, or held me like he did when I was younger. I didn't see him as the same person. All the drinking had turned him into someone I didn't recognise in the slightest. It killed the man that was my dad and I knew he was never coming back.

I didn't hope the way my mom did. I knew better.

"How about this?" she called before she appeared in the doorway, a black blouse hanging from her hand. It was long and flowy, with little white flowers all over it.

I smiled. "That would be perfect," I said. It was much nicer than anything I owned. "Thanks."

I took it from her and went into my own bedroom to get changed. I kept my jeans on but now, with the blouse, I looked a little nicer. It wasn't much, but it would do. I quickly applied some mascara to my lashes and spritzed some perfume before leaving my room.

"You look lovely," my mom said, her smile warm. "Have a good time."

I stepped towards her and threw my arms around her. She squeezed me back just a little tighter than usual and I didn't let go. We just stayed, silently holding each other. The hug said more than our words could. "I love you," I whispered when I reluctantly pulled away.

She smiled, brown eyes glowing with warmth. She gave my hand a single squeeze. "I love you too."

A/N:

Early update since A Debt To Pay reached 4 million readers this morning!!! I'm eternally grateful to every single one of you, thank you so much for your support ♥︎