Did a bit of a mood board for Elle, I love making graphics for books so you'll probably see a lot of these as the book advances. Also– opinions on the cover? I keep changing my mind about what I want but I think I like this one! Thanks for the support on the book so far! You guys are amazing x
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The rest of the day went past quickly, my mind whirling with thoughts about Matt and the new people arriving tomorrow. I couldn't work out why I felt so on edge – it's not as if they would have any effect on me. They probably wouldn't be allowed within a five-foot radius of me if Matt had anything to say about it. The bell rings, announcing the end of class and I quickly pack up my things, rushing to meet Matt at my locker. He hated it when I was late.
There is someone already waiting for me as I arrive but it's thankfully not Matt.
"You're safe, he's not here yet." Kristie states, rolling her eyes and slumping against the locker beside mine, "I passed him chatting to some football guys so you've still got time." I smile gratefully at her as I start collecting my things, making sure to keep an eye out for the blonde head of hair. "So what's your plans tonight?" She asks and I close my locker door shrugging.
"Honestly, probably just have dinner with Matt and then have a discussion about tomorrow, my dad is home too so it's not like I'll be doing anything much."
Kristie's hand lands on my arm and she squeezes it comfortingly, her soft brown eyes swirling with pity and it makes me feel sick. She goes to say something but her eyes flick behind me and she glares.
"I'll see you tomorrow, alright?" I nod and she hugs me quickly before straightening up at the sound of footsteps right beside us. "See you tomorrow, Matt." She half spits.
Matt smirks at her, resting his arm around my neck, "See you later, Kirsty." She scowls but doesn't bother correcting him, he'd called her that for three years, it wasn't about to change now.
I don't get the chance to say bye to her because Matt has already dragged me away, through the crowds and out the front door before I realise.
"Honestly, I don't know why you're still friends with her." He murmurs, his hand guiding me into his pick up truck. "She's not even that attractive." I jump onto the seat and the door slams behind me. I don't say anything back or begin to try and defend Kristie – I'd be wasting my breath on him. Matt jumps in the car and we pull out of the schools parking lot. He takes the time to roll down his window and shout at some of his teammates as he does and I have to physically stop myself from groaning. I just wanted to go home.
"Did you have a good day?" Matt asks as we drive, his hand coming over and resting on my thigh and I smile.
"It was alright, the same of the usual – history was quite fun though, we're looking at ancient civilisations and how their government worked and how they managed to—"
"I asked if you had a good day, I didn't ask you to bore me to death with the information you learnt." Matt's voice is cold as he speaks, his eyes not moving from the road but his fingers dig into my thigh slightly sending me a warning.
"Sorry," I mumble, looking out the window, watching the trees fly past us in a blur of green and brown, "It won't happen again."
We arrive at my house and I step out the car, cringing at the sight of my fathers old Toyota parked in our driveway. I hated when he was home.
I wait for Matt to walk around the side of the car, knowing not to go into the house without him, and he walks straight past me, opening the door like it was his house and not mine. Honestly, sometimes it felt like it.
"Mr Williams, we're home!" Matt calls as we step through the front door, his voice echoing through the house, the cold tiles tapping as I step on them.
"In the lounge," a rough voice calls back and the three simple words make my heart start to pound, a cold chill running down my back.
We walk through the hall, Matt taking the lead and I follow behind in silence, looking down at the floor hoping that the state we were going to find him in wasn't going to be too bad.
The sound of the television greets me as Matt enters the room, leaving me in the hall and I listen to him chat with my father, their voices a harmony of laughter and friendliness. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, preparing myself to face him. If I stayed out here any longer it would only make him annoyed and I wanted nothing more than to have no drama tonight and simply eat and disappear to bed.
I enter the smoky room and my nose involuntarily wrinkles at the sight of beer cans and cigarettes littering our rug. No doubt I would have to clean it up.
"Annabelle, so nice of you to join us." My father sneers, his beady eyes making my skin prick as he gazes at me, not hiding the fact that I disgust him. His hair has a layer of grease on it, making the dark colour even darker and his skin, a yellow tint which seems to go with the sickly aesthetic of the room.
"Hello, father," I reply politely, trying my best to give him a smile even if it is tight, "How has your day been?"
He laughs at my question and turns back to the tv.
"Make us dinner, there's chicken in the fridge." He snarls and I glance at Matt who is sitting on the couch opposite him, accepting one of the beers that my father offers.
"And mashed potatoes too," Matt adds without looking at me. Instead, he leans back and props his feet up across from him, his eyes glued to the tv, "Did you see the game last night, Mr Williams?"
Without saying a word I leave the room, a breath of relief pouring out of me as I make my way to the kitchen, blood pumping in my ears.
Opening the fridge I'm confronted with the sight of shelves of beer and I have to move some out of the way to reach the chicken right at the back. I found it almost amusing that he was telling me what was in the fridge when I was the one that had bought it. The only reason he probably knew it was there was because it was taking up 'beer space'.
The cupboards were pretty empty but one was filled with some necessities that most dishes needed, as well as a large bag of potatoes which looked like they were going to go out of date soon. I sigh and grab them, opening the bag and beginning to wash and peel them, mumbling to myself as I go.
After that, I boil them in water and then begin slicing the chicken.
"Going okay, babe?" I jump in surprise, the knife slipping as I do, cutting into my skin.
I sharply look at Matt and smile, trying to not grimace at the pain waving through me, hiding my hand behind my back. "You scared me." I breathily laugh, squeezing my finger in the hopes of stopping the bleeding, "Everything alright?"
Matt looks at me strangely, opening the fridge door. "Yeah, just grabbing more drinks for me and your dad." He closes it with his foot and looks me up and down, "Something wrong?"
Shaking my heading I turn and carry on cutting the chicken, my eyes widening at the blood on my hand and grab the dish towel, covering the sight.
"No, nothing!" I smile at him, "Dinner should be ready in thirty minutes."
He smirks, heading for the door. "You're dad wants it in twenty."
A usual family dinner, that I assume most people have, includes chatting, laughter and comfort while the food is eaten, but although that may be the case for my father, it was not the case for me. I would only speak if spoken to and made sure to keep my eyes down during the meal, I didn't want to upset anyone. The rules had been drilled into me for years now, so it was easy enough to follow them. I enjoyed listening to my own thoughts, as long as I paid attention to what they were saying in case I was suddenly wanted.
"Annabelle," my father begins and I look up expectantly, "The chicken was dry, I thought we'd gotten past this." He simply states, closing his cutlery together and leaning back in his chair, his hand resting on his swollen stomach, "I hope we don't have an issue again." His eyes fly up and glare at me, my throat closing in response.
"No," I choke out, clearing my throat, "I apologise, it was my mistake."
My father leans forward, his arms landing on the table as he moves his plate out of the way, "Let me ask you this," He starts, his fingers intertwining, his face a look of pondering, "Not only was the dinner ten minutes later than I asked, it was also overcooked." He laughs looking at Matt, "It's as if the time I gave her was perfect for the meal and she didn't listen."
Matt glances at me with a smirk, "You know that you should always listen to your father, Anna." He chuckles, shaking his head and I squeeze my hands together, flinching at the pain from my finger.
"So what was the reason it was late?" My heartbeat speeds up at the question, I thought he was just going to let it go, I should have known that he wouldn't. Suddenly the room feels a lot warmer and the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up, my hands becoming sweaty.
His hand slams down on the table and I jump, "Why the fuck was it late!"
The shout echoes through the room and I stay silent, my breathing rapid as he stares at me and then his eyes flicker to my hand which has come up automatically at the sound of his raised voice.
Panic sets in as I see him acknowledge the large plaster around my finger.
His thin lips slide into a smirk as his tongue runs along them, his voice like ice, "Give me your hand." He demands and I know not to disobey, even though I want to run in the opposite direction.
"I-I cut it cooking, there's n-no blood anywhere I-I promise," I whisper and he shooshes me, raising his other hand as his fingers wrap around the plaster.
"I don't want excuses," He tells me and my eyes flicker to Matt whose face is emotionless as he sips his beer, watching me like it's casual viewing on the tv. "Is it sore?" My father asks and my head slowly turns to look at him, tears starting to form in my eyes, I can't get my voice to come out and my chest tightens. "I'll take that as a yes." He hums, his chin lifting towards me as his whole fist wraps around it. "Now what have we learnt tonight?" He asks, beginning to squeeze and I flinch, my eyes widening in panic as I begin to see blood dripping.
"I-I don't-"
"What. Have. We. Learnt." He hisses, his fist beginning to shake as he grasps tighter and tears spring at the pain, waves of heat flowing through my hand. Yellow teeth gritted he waits for my answer.
"T-to listen to you,"I stammer, "To h-have dinner on time."
His grip tightens, "And?" The pain is overwhelming and my eyes pinch shut, trying to focus on getting words to spill out my mouth without shaking. His fingers are like a vice and I know that if I don't answer he will just continue.
"A-And to be more careful." I gasp out and he lets go, releasing me and the air trapped in my chest with it. My back hitting the chair in relief and he asses me for a moment before wiping his hands on his napkin, and I only now see how much red there is, the pulsing pain reminding me of the moment.
"Make sure to clean yourself up." He suggests, rising from the table, "Matt and I will be enjoying the football," He necks his bottle of beer before slamming it on the table, "don't leave the kitchen in a mess."
Matt rises automatically and throws his napkin down on the table as my father storms out of the room, a fresh beer in his hand.
"Honestly Anna, you think you would have learnt by now." Matt sneers like he'd just stepped in dog waste, "I'll be up later."
And then I am left alone.
I collect up the plates through a haze of tears and stumble to the dishwasher, loading the ceramics as quietly as possible, the fear of disturbing the beast prominent in my mind.
My body feels numb and even my throbbing finger can no longer be felt, the only sign of injury being the slowly soaked red plaster hanging off of it.
It doesn't take long to clear the kitchen, I had kept it clean while cooking in case my father decided to have an impromptu inspection of my standards.
In my bathroom, I sit on the toilet seat and asses my finger, my frequently used medical kit resting on my lap as I wash it, trying not to cringe at the sight.
I clean it using an antiseptic wipe and muffle my cry with a towel shoved in my mouth, it never gets easier. I place some gel along the incision on my finger, holding the skin together and hoping that it holds, my father hated when I had to go to the hospital. He had tried to buy me all the medical supplies I might ever need to look after situations like this, or else in his words, people might become 'suspicious' of my frequent trips and medical care.
I wrap a new plaster around the now-closed cut and then put a light bandage over it too, just to avoid any accidents and then clean up the bathroom, tucking the kit in the back of my shelves behind my makeup and perfumes.
Entering my room I feel a wave of safety wash over me, my father hardly ever came upstairs and I was allowed to have my personal things in my room. Pictures of Kristie and I decorated my pin board with a few of Cameron, although Matt wasn't too fond of those and I had to limit how much he was visible in. My light lilac sheets covered the bed in the middle of the room, a large double that my father had bought me after he met Matt, it was safe to say he approved of him. I walk over to my bed and sit down, exhaustion washing over me as I finally relax for the first time in hours. Kicking my shoes off and resting against the pillows, I reach into my bedside drawer and take out the photo frame hidden there.
I look at the two women and the baby and smile softly, my fingertip grazing their smiles as tears trickle down my cheeks, "Hi mama," I whisper, "Hi grandma." Their faces stare up at me and I can't help the wave of loneliness that engulfs me, the quiet sobs that wrack my body making me clutch onto the picture frame. "I miss you guys." The confession leaves my lips like most nights, and like always silence greets me in return. They were never coming back, they'd left me here and I had to deal with this on my own.
I hear footsteps coming up the stairs and I quickly stash the photo back in my drawer, covering it with a textbook and shutting it softly. I lie back against the pillows and pull my comforter up to my chest, wiping the tears off of my face and slapping my cheeks a few tips to make them look rosy and not damp. I run a hand through my hair and smooth it down just as a knock rings out and the person walks in without waiting for a reply.
"Hi, Princess." Matt greets, coming over to me with a sympathetic smile and soft eyes. I smile back at him and scoot my legs over so he can sit on the edge of my mattress, his hand stroking the side of my face, blue eyes shining as he assesses me. "You alright?"
His question seems silly.
Of course, I wasn't alright. Would anyone be alright with this?
I nod and he grins, leaning down to the bag that I have now only just realised he possessed, "I got you a new outfit for tomorrow, your dad approves." He tells me as though it's something exciting. In all honesty, I'd lost hope a long time ago that he would ever pull anything out of that bag that I truly loved.
The white colour surprises me, usually, he picked pink or red, or something equally as eye-catching.
"I want you to look pure, to look too good for the scum that is about to enter our school." Matt's hiss reminds me of what's happening tomorrow, I had completely forgotten. "Like I said, remember to act accordingly, I don't want to see you touching them, talking to them or even looking at them. You're far too good for them." I smile at him, acting like I'm grateful.
"You're all I need," I respond and he smiles at my answer, "I promise to try and stay away from them." I realise my small mistake as soon as I've said it but I don't move to change it, that would just make things worse.
Matt's smile remains and he takes my hand, kissing it softly, "Oh I know you'll try. You're not stupid, you know what happens when you don't listen."
My breath hitches and he winks at me, standing up with a groan, "Well I better be off, Mum needs help with her car and I promised I'd do it before her work tomorrow." He leans down and his lips meet mine, their softness comforting me as I close my eyes and remember the reasons why I love him, how kind and caring he can be. How much he loves his family.
He pulls away almost too soon and I open my eyes, the image of him three years younger fading away and replaced with the current icy gaze. I get out of bed and follow him to my bedroom door, leaning against the wood.
"Goodnight," I whisper softly, sharing another kiss with him.
"I'll pick you up tomorrow," He tells me and I nod in response, wringing my hands together, "And remember: best behaviour."
He disappears down the dark hall and I shut the door quickly, the click of the lock echoing around my room and the feeling of safety washes over me. It was done for the day.
But the feeling doesn't last very long as I notice Matt's present lying on my sheets, the colours contrasting as I feel the thin material between my fingertips.
I was terrified by what it meant.
How was I meant to avoid an entire school?
Get ready for the next chaaaaaapter!
One guess on who's going to make an entrance!