31 Flavours

~Islina POV~

I opened the shop door as the bell chimed above me. I’d just had a crappy day and my temper being as hot as it is, at the moment I needed something to cool it down. My solution was ice cream. Delicious, cold, sweet and yummy ice cream. There was an ice cream shop that had opened six blocks from my house, one which I had gone to as a child, hopefully far enough away that my lazy brothers won’t find me there. Not that they’d be caught dead in an ice-cream shop anyway.

Let me introduce myself. My name is Islina Rodnik and I have two remaining brothers. I used to have three but my favourite and well missing brother (who I will tell you about later); Jake abandoned me to my father and his eldest two sons. I used to feel hatred, and shame to think that I was awful enough that my own brother would leave me, but now I just chalk it up to his own massive head.

My father- though he’s missing five days a week- ignores me. I don’t mean to sound like a whiny teenager; I can’t ever remember him saying anything to me or even acknowledging my presence. Not even to say pass the salt at the dinner table. Not because of some tragic story about how I remind him of my deceased mother. Who isn’t deceased, but is happily living with a new husband and her two ‘darling’ babies in Manchester. I know I should miss my mother, but it’s not like she gave me the time of day when she was around. So it’s better for her to have a plausible excuse for her lack of presence in my life.

My eldest brother Mitchell who’s 23 enjoys living at home off dad’s money drinking beer, doing absolutely nothing to get his idle ass into the world of real men (not that I’d ever say this to his face). His daily exercise is stretching his hand out to the nearest hard, heavy object and seeing if he’s aim has improved by aiming straight at my chest. Sadly to say it hasn’t and he still gets me straight in the face every time. I know people are questioning my sanity, I mean shouldn’t I just move? Well Mitchell controls the house whilst dad’s away and really even when he’s there (which isn’t for long). If he doesn’t get his daily target practice, I don’t get my daily food, which is cut down to a slice of bread or cracker and the vegetables off his plate after he’s finished dinner. Apparently he doesn’t want a fat sister and I spend too much of his “beer money” anyway.

Bradley my 21-year-old brother is - at bare minimum - an illegal pervert, who enjoys his daily hour of groping, raping or punishing his sister. Who just so luckily happens to be me! Note the density of my sarcasm please. Today I had to be a naughty schoolgirl who needed to be punished -real original! *cough cough*- by being whipped whilst he chanted words of fake disapproval. He then followed out three of his dirty fantasies; The business woman getting schooled on an office desk, the police women being chained to a pole and the acrobat who likes it rough. I shuddered as I remembered those horrible 4 hours of my day. At least he used a condom right? Not the usual type of brother and sister bonding I hear about.

After that and a dictionary thrown at my face -which I quickly covered up with a ton of make up- I believed a scoop of ice cream was in order. I smiled at the vaguely familiar boy behind the counter and ordered my favourite ice cream. He mumbled something that resembled a yes ma’am.

Today was a rarity. Mainly because I got my ice cream! Without the ice cream it would be yet another typical day. I briefly thanked the lord for my ice cream.

Amen.