❝Kid, don't do that!❞ It was as if I could almost feel him smile-Hear it in his voice, let the warmth of it deluge my heart.
❝Why not?❞
❝It tickles, Allan.❞ I looked into his eyes as he chuckled. Just then i noticed a strange spark of uncertainty a...
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She stood there, outside the door, wishing she didn't have to go in. But it was Christmas eve. Silent and unnoticed, she thought to herself. She tried to make no noise as she walked in.
Silent and unnoticed.
She could hear voices from the kitchen. Screams followed with clatter of objects. "You really think—" She heard her father, loud and violent, by all sorts. A chill ran down her spine as Ashley decided to ignore it and go upstairs to her room. Silent and unnoticed.
She was halfway up the staircase when she heard her mom's voice—shrilled yet angry. She would ignore it, as usual. But a thud followed her mom's voice.
Ash took a second and then rushed down to the kitchen. She was just trying to check if things hadn't gotten out of hands other than the usual intense arguments. She kept herself quiet, trying not to attract attention towards herself as she stood there by the side of the kitchen door, peeking in.
Broken pieces of a cup laid sharp on the floor. Her father stood in front of her, holding her mother's wrist. She could only see his back. But in her mother's eyes, she saw the tears. The fear. The rage. She stood there, doing nothing. What could she do? So she stayed silent. And unnoticed. Just as she planned.
The man who stood in front of her wasn't what anyone would except him to be. Clide Bennett to people outside, was a descent man. A promising rich banker. His family was considered a happy one. Two gorgeous daughters—Ashley and Milly—and a beautiful wife—Kelly Bennett. A lovely family, if anyone was asked.
But only the people inside the house knew what the man really was. To Ashley, he was a monster. She often remembered her mother putting her to bed when she was a kid, making her sleep early. Telling her there were monsters that would take her away if she didn't.
To Ashley, Clide—her father—was that monster. A vulture is what she called him in her head. And today she saw the same monster holding her mother. He often used to hit Kelly. Almost daily. But Ash wouldn't dare speak up. She wouldn't come home before the man had passed out after drinking a lot of alcohol and left for school as soon as she could. She wouldn't come home for days.
She saw him pull her mother's hair. A gasp left Ashley's lips and her father finally noticed her. He left Kelly and started moving towards Ash. She was moving backwards and she wanted to run but something was stopping her. Was it fear for her mother?
"What are you looking at?" Clide grabbed her daughter by her wrist. She felt his grip tight around herself. She looked at him, scared and terrified. He pulled her in through the kitchen door. Ashley stood there in his hands as they pierced through her skin.
"Clide! No!" She heard her mom beg as tears trickled down Kelly's cheeks. She held her husbands hand but he pushed her away into the cabinet door. "No!...No!" She kept crying as if it would do anything.
"What were you looking at?" Clide asked Ashley. She couldn't speak, feeling as though she had no voice at all. "Answer me dammit!" He screamed.
Before she realized, she was crying, begging for forgiveness for something she hadn't intended to do. She mummed words as if a kid learning to speak. But Clide wanted an answer. He wouldn't do without an answer. "WHAT WERE YOU DOING HERE?"
He took a long wooden spoon kept on the marble top and hit it hard across Ashleys face. Her hands reached her lips. She touched the side and looked at the blood on her fingertips.
Clide held her hand again, only harder this time. He grabbed her and threw her out the kitchen door and shut it behind her. She stood there. Her tears had stopped suddenly. She wasn't crying. Everything around her was blur. A second later she started walking towards her room.
She entered her room and locked it as she shut the door behind her. She walked to the dressing table and looked at herself in the mirror after she sat down in front of it.
The corner of her lips was bleeding. She looked at the wound and then ran her hands over it, wiping the blood away. once. twice. Until the cut finally stopped bleeding.
She looked down at the table and took the concealer bottle on it. She twisted the lid and summed the liquid on her face. She covered up all of the cut, dipping and running the brush over it numerous times.
She shut the bottle and kept it back on the table as she reached for her face and smudged the multiple layers of concealer over it. Tears trickled down her moist eyes as she sat there looking at herself in the mirror.
She had to hide the scar. She had to look good.
Silent and unnoticed.
She had to look perfect.
❁❁❁
IT'S FUN WRITING DIFFERENT SCENARIOS FOR SO MANY DIFFERENT CHARECTERS.
