𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐘 (+𝟏𝟖)

CH. 2: GONE GIRL

M A L L O R Y

Why doesn't my brain ever function when it needs to?

I stood under the awning, watching rain mercilessly beat and drown the parking lot. The voice in my head scolded me for the better part of an hour for leaving my charger at home as I could've called an Uber.

So fucking stupid.

The mere thought of having to hitch a ride with my mother fills me with shit mix of dread and utter annoyance as I knew my eardrums would be raped for the entirety of the ride. I didn't have the bandwidth to deal with her crap, but it's either be on the receiving end of her rants or Tristan's hands.

I'm at least thankful for the solace the rain brings me, if only fleetingly, before the universe inevitably laughs and presses play on my life. I always loved the rhythmic tapping and that earthy smell it pervaded with every wet kiss it left upon Gaia's skin.

Rain is often seen as a herald of melancholy and depression, but in my case, it cleanses most of the anxiety I feel on the days it occurred; days like today.

So, you can imagine my disappointment when the palliative symphony was interrupted by the click clacking of Louboutin heels followed by unearthly screeching, signaling the approach of the she-devil.

Oh, God. Here we go...

"So, was it your mission to embarrass the hell out of me tonight?" my mother hisses, her heels resonating on the pavement as she got closer. "You could've screwed up everythin-" she pauses to snap her fingers. "Hey! Look at me when I'm speaking to you!"

I take a moment to mentally prepare for the bullshittery to come before reluctantly turning around to face the ugly scowl etched onto her face.

She really needs to stop frowning like that. I swear more cracks eroded her face every time she gave me that look. Her makeup already had its work cut out for it, trying to mask the underlying ugliness that hid beneath her concealer. Why make its job harder?

She crossed her arms, pissed at my lack of response. "Oh, so now you've got nothing to say? Because you sure had quite a lot of fucking mouth at that table twenty minutes ago. What the hell was that?"

I had quite a lot I wanted to say but I settled for a simple response. "I'm not marrying that prick."

She pinches the bridge of her nose, as if she had the right to be upset. "We've talked about this. My business is struggling and we're up to our necks in hospital bills because of your father's coma. Tristan's family agreed to help us. You agreed to marry him."

"After you threatened to revoke my trust fund if I didn't sign that stupid contract," I spit angrily.

"You're making this more difficult than it needs to be. You were head over heels in love with the boy just a couple months ago. Now, you just mope when this man spoils you with lavish gifts everyday."

She went on about how privileged I was to marry someone of Tristan's status and how it could 'benefit our family.'

I had to shake the urge to seize her throat with my fingers to cut off her air supply. She saw the way he treated me in that restaurant and said nothing.

"He hits me!" The second the words elude my lips, she stops talking, eyeing me in perplexity.

There was a thin wall of silence and she blinks at me, taken aback by my abrupt statement. "He what?"