Copyright © Chloe Winson
Chapter 2: I never liked her anyway.
The car ride home was amazing! We bought ice cream, serenaded cheesy love songs to passers-by and even stopped for a cheeky burger- not, Psych! For the first time in my life, I was contemplating diving headfirst out of a moving vehicle.
Adam, or as I liked to call him, Pudge, had kept his face contorted into an 'I just ate a sour-sweet' expression. Not even a drive past 'Dunkin Donuts' could cheer this happy guy up. As for Taylor, well, from the moment we had buckled up he had stayed mum and from the knotting of his eyebrows and overly long sighs, it was clear to see that he would not be engaging in any conversation.
Sighing loudly, I occupy myself by picking at the hem of my shirt. The little distraction was not enough to stop me from noticing movement in the rear-view mirror.
"You know, taking a picture lasts longer you fat sh-"
"Gweneviere!" the outburst from Tyler has me jumping in my seat.
Like a naughty child, my bottom lip wobbled from the force I used to stop the smile that threatened to spread across my lips. Taylor had turned an alarming shade of red and the veins on his neck were more prominent than before. In fact, I'm pretty sure the vein on his forehead was pulsing.
Clicking my tongue in annoyance, I lean forward and motion to Pudgy with my thumb. "He is looking at me like I'm a freaking salad! It's not my fault the waitress misheard his order of extra fries for extra salad on the side. You should be thank-"
Taylor turns his head to look at me, a wild look in his eyes. Nostrils flaring, he grits out through clenched teeth. "That. Is. Enough."
Ingesting a deep breath to calm my erratic heartbeat, it takes every ounce of my willpower to stop myself from answering back. Clenching my jaw to stop myself from answering back, I finally sit back with my arms folded across my chest and turn my face away from him to stare out of the passing scenery.
It's too dark to see anything clearly, so I am met with my own tense expression. From the wind, my dark brown locks had frizzed out from its usual heated curls into a mass of frizz that hangs lifelessly to my shoulders, the ends ending at my shoulder blade. My rounded jaw was prominent beneath my clenched jaw, pulling my heart-shaped lips into a straight line. I had been told numerous times by disgruntled family members that I had inherited my button nose and deer like eyes from my mother.
The sound of someone clearing their throat draws my attention away from my reflection to the rear-view mirror which Pudgy uses to flash me a satisfied smirk.
My fingers holding onto my bicep tighten, threatening to bite through my jacket and the first layer of skin as I silently mouth a 'fuck you' to his reflection.
-XO-
The moment the car turned onto my street, I knew my stepmother was awake. A soft glow of amber emitted from almost every window and the moment the car rolled to a stop at the end of my drive, the lounge curtain twitched.
Someone was anxious.
Taylor, being the gentleman he was kindly walked me to the door. Even Pudgy had the nerve to accompany us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his smile widen as we began to ascend the porch steps. My eyes narrowed in anger and from the corner of my lips, I mutter, "Can't you even try a little professionalism and act like you're not going to enjoy this."
My snide remark seems to amuse the overly large police officer who tuts, his thin lips parting to show crooked teeth as he mockingly quips, "I assure you, I am going to enjoy this. If only you teenagers were half the person us folks are today then you wouldn't be in this situation."
Smiling wickedly, I hum in thought as if contemplating my life decisions. "Fortunately for me, I am half the person you are..." I pause making a show of looking him up and down, "Literally."
His smile drops and his eyes narrow into small slits. I end the conversation with a wink and run up the rest of the steps to stand beside Taylor who had already knocked on the door.
When nobody answers Taylor glances at me before knocking again. There was a loud bang as if the person behind the door was too flustered to mind their step. Seconds later the door opens, and my stepmother appears, feigning sleep.
She blinks as if clearing her gaze before glancing at us all. When her eyes finally settle on mine, they widen from shock and she gasps.
"Gwenevire!" she gushes, a manicured hand resting against her exposed cleavage in shock. "W-where have you been?" She makes a show of noticing the police officers. "Oh no, what have you done? Officers, whatever she has done, I offer you my sincerest apologies."
"Actually, I saved the president's life by jumping in front of a bullet, these," I motion to my two bodyguards, "are my public escorts."
Taylor clears his throat at the brief silence that follows my announcement, making my Stepmoms sinister expression drop.
"Taylor, whatever she's done, we'll pay for the damage." she gushes as she reaches out a clawed hand that latches around my wrist in a vice-like grip. Without warning, she hauls me forward with such force that I stumble over my feet. A hand touches the middle of my back, steadying me.
"Thank you, Mrs. Matthews, but that won't be necessary," Taylor says tightly, and the warmth of his hand promptly disappears as he steps back and glances down at me. "Gwen will take care of this herself. You already know the routine, be at mine before five."
Out of shame, I find it hard to meet his intense stare. Instead, I nod once in acknowledgment and look down at my scuffed sneakers as if they were the most interesting things in the world. From my prehension vision, I watch Taylor nod in satisfaction before bidding my Stepmom goodbye and turning on his heel to leave, his footsteps on the steps are like a dead echo in my ears.
"Bye then!" I mutter after him slightly offended by his rude departure.
Pudgy follows, his eyebrows pulled down in disappointment at the outcome of this visit. A sharp pain from my wrist reminds me of Sarah's constricting grip. In one sharp movement, I snatch my arm down, breaking her grip and leaving unintentional scratch marks.
-XO-
"I have had it up to here with you, Gweneviere! This is the second time this week Taylor has had to bring your sorry ass home!" the key had barley turned in the lock when she opened her rouge-lined lips.
Rolling my eyes, I busy myself with taking my coat and trainers off. Fortunately for me, a knot had formed on my left trainer causing me to be momentarily stuck with her high-pitched voice. Once free, I put my stuff away in the cupboard under the stairs.
"-I mean, do you even stop to think about me or your father? How bad do we look? No, how bad do I look?"
I proceeded into the kitchen. Like usual, my father was nowhere to be seen but my eyes didn't miss the absence of two champagne glasses that usually sat on the top shelf of the cupboard. Made of the finest crystal, they were my father's pride and joy and I knew my dad would never let my stepmother get her grubby paws on them, not unless it was a special occasion and he bore witness.
Her high-pitched squawk of a voice grew louder as her attack sensors located my whereabouts. Too engrossed in my sandwich making, I almost fail to notice another presence pacing behind me, her quick pacing causing the skin on my arms to rise from cold.
Bringing the knife down to cut through my sandwich, I sigh and hang my head back in boredom. "Are you going to continue muttering to yourself in despair over your reputation? It's becoming rather tiring."
Her breathing hitches as her words get stuck in her throat. "Don't even think about starting, Gwenevire. Your father and I have already warned you about your behaviour. In fact, if I remember correctly, doesn't your father say he was at his wit's end and the next time would be the last? Consider this the last straw."
Laughing with a mouth full of bread, I round on her. "Sorry to break it to you, Sarah, my father said that last time. In fact," I begin mocking her words, "he even said it the time before that. Even with you whispering in his ear, getting me out would be a bother and an utter waste of his time. Time he has for neither of us, that is."
Sarah's right eye twitches as the corner of her mouth pulls up like a rabid dog setting its eyes on a defenceless bunny...too graphic?
She steps forward, entering my personal space. The closeness allows me to see all her imperfections, and my sharp eyes catch the faded smear of red lipstick on her top lip. "Don't think of me as naive, Gwen. We both know getting into trouble is a ploy to get your father's attention. Even a moron could figure it out." I shrug and smile smugly.
It was no secret that I craved my father's attention, even if he was reprimanding me for getting into trouble, he would at least be talking to me.
In a way, it was sad. I had never considered myself a bad person- selfish, yes. I craved the attention of my only biological parent, just like every other child.
I can't really remember when it all changed. I just remember Sarah walking into my life with the force of an atomic bomb. She met my father over a year ago when he was away on a business trip. In that week of meeting they had declared their love for one another. To him, she was sweet, selfless and offered him a false sense of security- the security of never being alone and having someone to warm his bed. To her, he was a man of money, a human she could leech off and spend the rest of her days being the ideal housewife.
Sarah was anything but faithful to my father, the smeared lipstick and champagne glasses an indication that she had, in fact, had a 'visitor' this evening. When I highlighted my fears to my father, he had cast me aside with a stern glare and told me tightly that my accusations were lies and an attempt to rid of his 'Darling Sarah.'
"Give yourself a pat on the back, Genius. Now, why don't you go back to your knitting or whatever the fu!k you do. Better yet, why don't you think a little harder and think of a way of getting rid of me. Remember, killing is a crime so you might actually want to use your brain this time, whining in his ear isn't going to cut it."
Sarah straightens, her back becoming a rigid line as she stands to her full height to appear intimidating. "Listen here, you little B!tch, I have your foolish father wrapped around my little finger. If I wanted, I could have your father cast you aside without a second thought. Just like how quick your slag of a mother was able to walk away your father will do the same. Don't you get it? You're not wanted, not here, not anywhere."
Damn, that was deep. Not wanting to let her know how much her words had affected me; I smile maliciously and take a step closer until there is but an inch between our noses. "You don't know anything about my mother; therefore, you have no right to taint her name with those dirty lips of yours."
Sarah's blue eyes illuminated in the dull light at my reaction. "The slag of a mother who didn't want her slapper of a daughter." She half-whispers, each word is pronounced carefully as if she wished for them to be engraved in my memory.
Moving forward, she places her cheek level with mine to whisper in my ear. "You're nothing," are her last two words.
"Neither are you," I whispered and angled my head towards her before she can pull back. "You think you're smart but in fact you are clumsy. Oh, you're so clumsy. I know all about your affairs. Your lies, your deceit. Phones have this amazing feature called a video camera." the sound of her breathing becoming elaborated was like music to my ears. "It's impressive what footage you can capture remotely with an app. Who would have known Steve has a daddy fetish?"
Her movements were predictable and the moment she moved back and raised a hand, I was ready for her. She moved with sticking aim but by some miracle, I managed to catch her wrist inches from my face.
Her eyes are alight with rage, and she seems to be having trouble with her bottom lip that wobbles uncontrollably.
Gripping her fragile wrist, I gave it a tight squeeze making her yelp and try to pull back. At her resistance, I tighten my grip and jerk her closer to me. Slightly disgusted at our proximity, I try to make things quick. "Never raise a hand against me again." I hiss, venom dripping from my voice.
As if being in contact with her had caused me physical harm, I fling her wrist back. Unsteady on her feet, she stumbles back, her eyes wide with shock and her arm cradled against her chest. Fortunately for her and the floor, she manages to stay standing. Even so, if her butt had met the floor, I would have been certain it contained enough silicon to bounce her back up.
"Y-you dare to raise a hand against me. How dare you threaten me? You wait, you wicked child, you will pay for this!" she hisses, spit flying from her red lips.
I tut disapprovingly and shake my head. "Now now Sarah, if you start throwing threats like that one may get the impression that you're scared. Now, if you don't mind, I will be heading to my room."
Grabbing the plate with my bitten sandwich, I don't wait for a reply and leave the room. On the way to my room, I crack open the conservatory door to check on my best friend, Rodger, my golden retriever. He lay across his large bed, a toy in the shape of a bone sticking out from underneath his head. Satisfied he was okay; I head to my room where I slide down the door and place a hand over my mouth.
Did that seriously happen? Not once had I made Sarah aware I knew about her dirty little secrets. What I had done was rather foolish, out of spite and the need to get one other her I had allowed myself to sink as low as her.
Curled up against the door, I eat my sandwich. All the while, my ears listen for any movement coming from downstairs. Like little whispers, the sound of her frantic voice drifts up through the cracks of the floorboards and I know she's on the phone to somebody, probably my father.
Sighing at the thought of having to listen to her voice, I pick myself up off the ground and pull out a black backpack tucked under my bed. It takes a few pulls before it becomes loose. Once free, I hastily pack a few extra essentials before putting on a pair or worn converse that has been lying beside the bin for the past two months. I couldn't find it within my heart to part with the worn things.
The last thing I throw on is a thin Parker that I pull tight around my middle when I open the bedroom window and a cold breeze rustles through the bedroom, scattering loose paper and blowing my hair back.
I took a second to scan the dark streets to make sure the ghost was clear before tiptoeing across the room to turn the lights off. Before heading back to the window, I wait for my eyes to adjust. It doesn't take too long thanks to the streetlight outside my window that casts a soft glow through the window, illuminating the way.
Tugging on the backpack straps to make sure it's secure, I don't allow myself to think as I swing my right leg out and duck under the window. My foot rests on the base of the television satellite that creaks and wobbles threateningly.
Tentatively, I begin to apply more weight in fear that it may decide to give out. When it holds strong, I swing my other leg out. Luckily for me, my father has drilled lattice panels on the side of the house which had been decorated with a vine known as Virginia Creeper. Sure, it looked beautiful in the autumn, but the plants spread like wildfire and creep into every living crack like a parasite. Not to mention it was a home for every living insect with more than five legs. And as I descended, those crawlies were not what I wanted to think about.
As if watched over by some invisible angel, I managed to make it to the bottom very much alive and with no broken bones. Patting the vines in thanks, I head over to the path and begin my journey down the road, no destination in mind.
-XO-
The following day rolled around quicker than expected and to lengthen the time I spent away from home I decided to walk back. Last night, I had taken my time to muster up enough courage to head over to the only adult figure in my life, Taylor.
I had dug the scuffed end of my left converse in the dirt of his lawn as I stared up at his bleak house in thought. Did I have it in me to take the key beneath the third rock on my right and let myself in for the night? It wouldn't have been the first time I had done so.
Truthfully, I already knew the answer and as I began to make my way back down the road, my shoes felt as if they were filled with lead. My guilt-stricken thoughts and broken promises took me farther away from the comfort of my only true friend and to the nearest hotel.
My shame had deterred me away. I had broken my promise to him, a promise I had only made four days ago. It was nothing big, just for me to keep my head down, to not get involved with the wrong people and to just be, well, 'me.'
Sweat now dotted my upper lip, and my backpack was starting to feel like it had been packed with rocks.
Sighing, I stop, taking a moment to gather my bearings. I cover my eyes with my hand as a makeshift shield against the sun. From as far as the eye could see, the sky was a soft hue of blue that seemed to stretch endlessly. In response to the heat, the sun-kissed ground radiated heat in long waves. As much as I disliked the bearing heat, I liked the way the world seemed to come aglow beneath the rays of light.
I wish the sun would kiss me with life.
I almost felt grateful when my house came into view, almost. That was until the door to my house opened and my stepmother stepped out, sunglasses perched atop her nose. I stop at the end of the drive, suspicious about her timing.
Had she been waiting for me?
Through slightly narrowed eyes that were not caused by the sun, I slowly make my way towards her. With each step I take, I mentally prepare myself for her attitude.
When I am halfway up the drive, she lifts her sunglasses from atop her nose to rest them on her nest of blonde hair.
The sight of her face has me whistling through my teeth. The right side of her face was decorated with a dark, purple bruise, even from where I stood, I could see how badly the sclera was bloodshot.
"Jesus," I breath tilting my head to the side in slight worry. "What happened to you?"
Sarah's face remains sombre but her lip twitches upwards into a half smirk before dropping down into a sad grimace. "You know exactly what happened." I jump in shock when she lets out an overly large sob and raises a hand to cover her mouth. Under the cover of her hand, she mutters in a wicked whisper, "You deserve everything that's coming for you, you little B!tch."
The hand that I was about to extend to her in comfort stops midway and drops completely when the front door is ripped open and my father's shadowed appearance emerges from the doorway.
The rage in his eyes instantly has me taking a step back.
"How could you even deny attacking me? I only wanted to help you Gwenevire!" Sarah sobs and tentatively reaches a hand towards me; her arms shake as she grabs at thin air. She backs into my father who wraps an arm around her shoulder in comfort. At his touch, she sobs louder and tucks herself into this side.
"You have to be kidding me." I begin and clear my throat when my words come out as a whisper. "Dad, you can't actually believe I hit her?" I finally say, my eyes confronting his furious ones.
"You dare to speak to me after what you have done? You hit your mother, Gwenevire."
"She is not my mother!"
"You dare!" he shouts, advancing towards me causing my heart to momentarily miss a beat. Sarah jumps into action, clutching onto the collar of his shirt, stopping him from reaching me.
She directs his face towards hers by cupping his cheek with her talon-like nails. "Baby don't do anything you will regret. I'm fine, honestly." she gives him a wobbly smile and shoots me a fleeting glance to observe my reaction.
Realization dawns on me like a drop of ice against my back. Feeling like someone had directed a hundred volts of electricity to my chest I keep my voice tight as I straighten my stance and arrogantly angle my chin. "It doesn't matter what I say," I breathe in disbelief as my gaze trails from one adult to the other, "you have already decided the truth. No matter what I will tell you, you will refuse to listen. I can see it in your eyes. You call yourself a father, yet you would believe a woman you have known for a year over your own daughter. And if you think for one second that I could cause that much damage to her face with a single punch then you are lying to yourself."
My father's expression did not falter at my words. Rigid as a statue, he dwells beside Sarah, his arm a protective vice around her waist. Even when my vision became foggy with unshed tears and my hands shook so hard that the only way I could stop them was to hide them in the pockets of my jacket, my father did not react.
"Your mother and I no longer feel we can support your rebellious ways. The increasing number of crimes you are committing are tarnishing our names. We no longer wish to be connected to someone like yourself. We discussed involving the police but due to you only coming off probation for the possession of drugs we figured the addition of assault is a straight ticket to Juvenile. Alternatively, we offer you a ticket to California where Sarah's sister, June resides."
At the blunt harshness of the unexpected words, my mouth falls open and closes like a goldfish out of water. "You're sending me away." I clarify, my legs feeling weak and on the verge of collapsing.
My father nods. "No question about it."
Sarah steps out from my father who refuses to loosen the grip on her shoulder. She smiles encouragingly at him, and he allows her to step closer.
"I'm sorry, Gwen. It seemed like this was the only way we could help you. I wish things could have been different between us. If only you could have accepted me. This is for you." she reaches out to my dad who raises a hand to give her my black messenger bag I usually use for school. I hadn't noticed the item clutched in his grasp.
"We spent the night packing your clothes and essentials. In here are the things you will need for the flight that leaves tomorrow at 10am. There's money for a taxi and food and one of your father's cards for emergencies. Please don't hate us; we only want what's best for you."
God damn it, she was good.
"Stop apologizing Sarah, she has made her bed and now she must lie in it."
"And so, shall you, Farther." Careful to avoid contact with the monster's skin, I take the messenger back and rest it on my shoulder. "I mean it literally when I say it's warmed for you by others. I would thank you for the things you have done for me but this is the exact moment I want to look back on. When I am laying down for the night in god knows where I will remember you both- you know what? I. Will. Smile. Why? Because nothing will ever come close to this hell hole. You're both made for each other and I would love to wish you both all the best but then I would be lying."
I will remember my father who was nothing but a wimp with a shell of a heart. And you, Sarah, I will wish and dream that one-day karma will bite you in that fat ass of yours.
"And Rodger?" I question, peering into the open door.
"Arrangements are being made for his flight. He will arrive before you."
A part of me will look back and wonder why I never left with a flourish. To me, a good parting would have been, "Bye B!tches!" and a good-old hair flick. Instead, I gritted my teeth and turned my back to the only family I knew to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall. With a stiff back, I leave my neighbourhood. When I had convinced myself I had walked far enough away, I allowed myself to cry, big ugly tears.
With puffy eyes and a runny nose, I use the back of my sleeve to wipe away the fallen tears and the thought that runs through my mind brings me a smile to my face. I was free. Free of the spawn of Satan. Good. I never liked her anyway.