Rebel Love Song

2: Daddy Dearest

I knock on the dressing room door and call out, "Elijah, are you ready to come out? we've got--" I pause to look at my mother, who is standing right behind me clinging to the make up box, "-- customers who need the dressing room."

After a few moments, I hear a weak, "Yes." I slowly open the door and motion for my mother to come in behind me. She does as I ask with her head bent down low. On the floor, curled up in a ball, is Elijah. I close the door quickly and rush to my best friend's side. As soon as I kneel down, Elijah engulfs me in a bear hug, sobbing into my shoulder. All I can do is gently wrap my arms around him and comfort him silently.

After about fifteen minutes, his sobs turn into hiccups, and he slowly pulls away. I stare at him worriedly, because Elijah almost never cries. I've only seen him cry two other times: Once, on the day of our sixth birthday, army soldiers showed up at their house to tell us that the twins' dad had died. The second time was when was when their older brother, Tomas, was stabbed by his girlfriend's ex. Then there's today, though I have no clue what made him so emotional.

Elijah sighs bringing me back to the dressing room. I put a hand on his shoulder in a comforting manner, drawing his eyes to mine. As soon as they meet my own eyes, his Vibrant green eyes fly down. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for earlier, and I'm sorry for breaking down. It's just, well, you're My little sister, and seeing someone look at you like that brought out my brother bear. I can't stand not being able to protect you from the jerks that hurt you. Hell, I can't even protect you from Mason." Elijah's voice cracked the whole time he talked, and once he finishes, he drops his head into his hands with a sigh.
"Elijah, You can't protect me or Dakota forever," I start. "I'm fine, alright? I've learned to handle those kinds of situations." a shiver runs down my spine at my words, and images of my father's face flash through my mind.
I stand up and hold a hand out to Elijah, who reluctantly takes it before saying, "I know, but I can't help being even more protective over you: You're the youngest. Both Dakota and I consider you our blood sibling, and in fact, thinking otherwise would be treason. You're our baby sister and we're going to do whatever we can to help you, without question." I smile and hug him, and he hugs me back.
Now, most people would think that Elijah has a crush on me, but to be quite honest, we'd both rather eat animal poop than kiss each other. In other, less disturbing words: we have no romantic feelings for each other what so ever.
I open the dressing room door and shove Elijah out, saying, "Now, Go make up with your sister: she's pretty pissed that she had to re-shelf all the merch you knocked down." Elijah chuckles and sets off to find his twin. I shut the door and turn to my mom. She's beaming at me while saying, "I'm so glad you have friends that care about you so much. Was that one of the Michelson twins? Wow, they both must be all grown up! Elijah looks so much like his father. He also looks similar to that boy you like, the lead singer. Andy, was it?" I blush and nod my head.
I have to admit: I have a crush on Andy Biersack from Black Veil Brides. I can see where Mom thinks Elijah looks like him: he practically has the same nose, and cheek bone placing that resembles Andy's. His mouth is also close, including the lip ring, even if it is located on the opposite corner of his lip. "Well, he kind of looks like him. Not completely, but if your daughter's obsessed with him, you can see it." my mom babbles with a wink.
I laugh and shake my head, saying, "You really are something, Mom."

*. *. *. *

   "Done!" I exclaim with happiness. I look as my work with eyes full of adoration. All of my mom's facial, neck, and arm bruises are expertly slathered in concealer, and her lips, after being coated in stinging Carmex for five minutes, are painted in dark red lipstick and clear lip gloss. Her eyes are lined with black eyeliner that flows up into a wing at the corner of each socket, and her eyeshadow is a sparkling silver. She also has a small amount of blush, but not enough to make people cringe. I quickly pack up the supplies and tell my mom to stay in the dressing room as I walk out of it. Before closing the door, I look my mom up head to toe, analyzing the next step. I shut the door and walk over to the band tees, grabbing the first small red and black queen muscle shirt with the lips and get a small blazing red undershirt, matching the shade on the shirt. I then head over to the jackets and pick out a red and black reversible Harley Quinn zip up jacket, colors still matching the shirt. I shuffle over to the skinny jeans, picking up size 4 leather black ones, before jogging to the belts. Choosing a Harley Quinn themed bat man sign car seat belt, I make a U-turn for the accessories. I take a black Sabbath wrist band, a Black Veil Brides choker, and a red rose crown. I run to the back of the store and grab black studded flats  Before returning to the dressing room once more.
   I walk in and lock the door behind me, setting the mountain of clothes on the spot of the bench my mom wasn't occupying, which was almost all of it.
  "Try these on," I say softly. She nods at me and I turn around to let her do her thing. When she's done, she taps me lightly on the shoulder, making me turn to face her. I look over her and smile, nodding g in approval.
   You're probably thinking, "Ew! She can't dress like that! she's old!" and blah blah blah. Well, here's a fun fact that adds to the many reasons of why I hate my father. When My mom was 13,
my 17-year-old father knocked my mom up. When Mason and I were born, her parents kicked Mom out of their house and my dad, who'd lived in his own apartment, had allowed her to live with him.
   According to my mom, Daddy dearest used to be a saint: he would cry if he killed a fly. Literally. He'd been really sweet and caring. Anyway, my dad finished high school and went on to college, while my mom finished her last year in junior high and advanced on to high school. Throughout the years, Mom said Dad began to change. He became colder, but never laid a hand on her.
   After high school, Mom got a job at Spencer's, and my father became a lawyer. By that time, the beatings on my mother had started. She was 26, and Mason and I were thirteen, in our last year of middle school, because we skipped Kindergarten.
   I remember walking in on them once. Dad came home and stormed onto Mom and his' room. He started yelling, and Mason and I shared a look. Believe it or not, Mason used to actually love me. He used to be my older twin brother,, but then he'd changed. Anyway, I'd heard Mom scream and I'd made beeline towards their room. I'd burst through the door just in time to see my dad punch Mom across the face. I'd let out a blood-curling scream and both of their heads had snapped towards me. That was the day my father had started hitting me.
   Now my mom is 31, not even mid thirties. She's pretty young, and is still in the grunge age. I shake my thoughts away and grab my mom's hands leading her out of the dressing room after throwing her old clothes in my beach bag I had retrieved earlier. I drop her hand to put my bag bag in the employee room and walk over to the checkout counter. I grab the portable bar scanner and motion for my mom to come here, which she hesitantly does. I scan the tags on her clothes, ripping them off after I scan them, before walking around the counter and disposing of the tags. I walk over to the computer that holds the balance for Mom's new clothing and quickly type in my employee discount, making the total come out to be $103.86. I open one of the many wallets, the one that was in my back pocket, and pull out two hundred, and type the amount it to open the cash drawer. I take my change from the register and stuff it into my wallet before putting the piece of BVB merch back into my Jean pocket. I walk back around to my mother with a smile.
   I open my mouth to comment when Dakota and Elijah barrel into me, knocking me to the ground while yelling, "explanation now! our shift's over!" I shove them off of me and stand up, dusting myself off to emphasize their rudeness. they just roll their eyes and cross their arms. I sigh and hold up my index finger while I clock out for the day. I motion for them to do the same, and they quickly do so. We hang our badges up and soon, the next employees walk in for their shift.
  As we walk out of the store, I say, "What do you want me to explain?"
  "ummm...maybe about how your mother, who everyone thought died,is alive, and was last seen on our eleventh birthday," Elijah points out with a 'duh' tone.
   "And about how come she looked like death when she came in--no offense Mrs. Matthews," Dakota interjects, apologizing to my mom.
   "None taken," Mom replies with a smile, then, the three turn to look at me for an answer.
   "W-well," I stutter, "M-my mom and I-I have gone through a...d-difficult time at h-home, a-and I-it hasn't been v-very e-easy lately." I try to be as vague as I can whilst answering. The twins continue to gape at me, as if I'm crazy.
   My mom sighs and says, "My husband is abusive, and it started when you kids where ten, but he started hitting Blade when she was thirteen." Dakota gasps and Elijah takes in a sharp breath. My mom notices the tears forming at the crevices of my eyes so hugs me. She attempts to calm me down, which after a few minutes, is a successful attempt.
   I wipe away the remaining tears and say, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I was just afraid. Today we ran away from the house, from the Monster. We can't ask you guys to open your house to us, so do t even think about it."
   "What do you mean? you guys are family, and your dad doesn't know our new address remember?" Dakota points out. I think for a moment before nodding my head.
   "If it's okay with you guys. Anyway, what's done is done, so let's go fix ourselves. our dad knows our appearances, so it's make over time."

Dun Dun Duhhhh! I'm a back! helloooo lol. yeah so I'm updating again I guess. bye