The Truth About Happily Ever After

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Waking up the next morning, I felt the bruises even more. I've learned over the years, that the second and third days are typically the worst. Despite the pain, I untangled myself from Eliza' and Brandon's grips. I sneak out of the room, and am as silent as I can be while going to the freshly unpacked kitchen. Quietly, I get out the materials for breakfast and make enough for the kids and our parents. After it is done cooking, I put it in the oven for it to stay warm, but not cook.

While waiting for everyone to wake up, I unpack the last of the boxes for the kitchen. About half an hour later, empty boxes scatter the white tiles and everything is put away. Through all of this, nobody has woken up, so I continue onto the living room. I rearrange shelves and furniture to make a more open space, and then begin the painful process of unpacking. Many boxes and a lot of organising later, I am mostly done. The house's stillness feels terrible. Because I am the only one awake, it just makes everything I do louder. I feel like every time I stack a CD, my parents will wake and come out here. I am living in fear, even as I am alone.

Eventually, I hear the hushed sound of feet, telling me it's one of the twins. When I see the drowsy look in Brandon's eyes, I smile. He hugs me, then stands there, looking around dully. You can tell by looking at him that he isn't fully awake. I gently lead him to the kitchen, where I pull down a plate and serve him food. I place him at the table, and get him some orange juice as well. He sits there and eats slowly, completely absorbed in his meal. I leave him there to finish, and continue on the front room.

As I am working, I hear the water run in the sink and a few moments later Brandon joins me. He silently helps me unpack, and we work side-by-side until we hear more footsteps. These ones are much heavier, and less cautious. They don't belong to Eliza, and, judging from the sound, it was our father. I immediately stand and prepare a plate for him, while Brandon fixes his spot.

"Good morning." Both Brandon and I murmur this with our heads down. He barely glances at us, and instantly digs into his food. I usher Brandon back into the living room, and get him back to unpacking. "Catherine. Come here." I cringe at the sound of him calling me, and Brandon looks at me worriedly. I smile reassuringly to him, trying to conceal my nerves.

Walking into the kitchen once more, I watch him from beneath my fringe. Timidly, I ask what he needed.

"Why aren't the twins and you at school? Just because we moved, doesn't mean you don't have to go to school. Are you even enrolled?" Although he sounds like he cares, I know it's only because he doesn't want us here. The knowledge hurts, and I visibly wince. "Don't make that face at me, young lady! I want you to go get those twerps up and ready for school pronto. Your mother and I need the cars, so you will have to walk."

"School doesn't start until Monday. Today is Saturday, and I already enrolled all of us. We also have all the books we'll need, so we're all set." With my head down, I don't see the murderous look on his face. I do however, hear his chair scrape back and hit the floor. My head snaps up to see what is wrong. I finally realize that I just talked back. I can't believe I was that stupid!  I should know by now to never talk back!

While I have this internal speech to myself, my father approaches My head twists to the side with the force behind his slap. Because he now knows I have school soon, he doesn't hit my face anymore. Instead, he grips my hair tightly, and his right hand balls into a fist. With the tight fist, he continuously rams it into the soft flesh of my stomach. Hot tears stream down my face, accompanied by whimpers forcing themselves out, despite my attempts to keep them in. My tears and sounds of pain only urge him on, and he uses more strength. Soon, the only thing keeping me up is his hand coiled through my hair.

I hear his laugh, and I hear Brandon's begging. "Please! Stop! You're going to kill her!" Fear is polluting his innocent voice, and that fear scares me. I crack open my eyes, and beg for him to leave.