Tangled With The Fated Mates

Broken Places

At first when she opened her eyes, she did not know where she was. She ached all over, every single muscle in her body that could ache ached, but her head most especially — it seemed like there was a battle ground inside her skull two opposing factions were warring bitterly. She grunted as she shifted, trying to make sense of where she was. Slowly, painfully, she managed to sit up, and it occurred to her that she was in the outhouse. The stench of blood was still in the air, and her memories came back in bright and obscene flashes — Arielle taking off Lumos's head, the spurt of blood, the physical exertion it had taken to clean the room.
"Ohh, no," she said to herself as she straightened up.
"Ahh, ahh, ahh," she heard a familiar voice. "Look who's awake."
She saw Angelo's wiry frame make it into the room, a smug smile on his face. He must have been standing outside all the while.
"Girl, you look terrible," he said to her, and Claudine could tell, by the look of disgust on his face, a look she had never seen him make before, that she really did look terrible. Instinctively, her hand went up to her face, but as soon as her fingers touched her chin, it hurt her.
Angelo leaned against the doorpost, shaking his head.
"Such a pity," he said. "Look what they made a good-looking girl like you into."
"They?" Claudine wanted to yell. "They? It was Arielle, for crying out loud. What do you mean "they," as if my assailant is some vague person, a stranger?" but she remained muted.
"I ... have a headache," Claudine said, breaking the silence.
"Of course you do," he said. "With the way she was stomping you, I thought she was damn near going to kill you. You're lucky you survived."
Claudine just looked at him. She remembered what Arielle had done, but it was just another day with the Zaynader's. This, however, had to be the most brutal of all of Arielle's maltreatment.
"I'll see if I can get you an ibuprofen," Angelo said, turning to leave, and then he said over his shoulders, "don't move an inch."
Claudine thought it almost laughable that she had been instructed not to move an inch. She could barely lift a muscle. She remained seated on the edge of the bed, her head buried in her palms, waiting patiently for Angleo. It felt like an hour, but he was soon back.
"Here," he said, handing her two pills and a glass of water. "Swallow that fast."
Claudine had always hated pills. When she was at the orphanage, she hated it every time she fell sick, and when she did, she would hide, trying to make sure none of the matrons found her out and made her take pills. And this time, like at the orphanage, she had no choice.
"Go ahead," Angelo urged her.
Swiftly, she threw the pills into the back of her throat, and poured some water in it to wash it down. She made a face afterwards.
"There you go, now—"
"What's going on here?" They both turned to look at Arielle who had just stepped in.
"I gave her some medicine for the pain," Angelo said.
Arielle, her face pulled into a mocking smile, folded her hands in front of her chest, and looked at Claudine, like an artist would look at a piece they were proud of.
"I really messed you up, didn't I?" She said.
Claudine couldn't answer, only look up at her. She was powerless. Arielle, with a speed that was unreal, grabbed Claudine by the chin, her eyes fixed on hers, her breath warm on her face.
"Let me tell you something, little sister," she said. "I don't know who gave you the idea that you can do as you like, or who gave you the delusion of freedom in this house. Let me assure you, that you're not free, okay? You're my toy, my plaything, and I shall do whatever the fuck I like with you."
When she had spoken, she roughly pushed her on the bed.
"Get out of here, Angelo," Arielle said, and without protesting, he left quietly.
"You're going to be here for a while, baby sister," Arielle said and she left too, shutting the door.
For a long moment, Claudine lay on the bed, hands sprawled, eyes closed. She didn't know what to do with herself so she remained like that. Her headache had begun to subside, and soon, she felt drowsy, and fell asleep.
When she woke up, it was night already, but she didn't know that. Time had become a bunch of squiggly lines in her head and she couldn't discern it anymore.
***
They had never had full control over their child, but now, it seemed like she was a totally different person. Since the Founder's Day Ball, she was more impulsive, more rash, even with Angelo, her uncle.
"What have you done to that poor thing again?" Mrs. Zaynader said as her stormed into the living room. "Wasn't it a while ago that you beat her brutally."
"Poor thing?" Arielle said with unconcealed disgust as she sat down. "That poor thing is one of the reasons I still don't have a fucking mate, mom. Please."
Janey shook her head. This was what she had to contend with every time the Founder's Day Ball occured. She herself had not seen Denzel, but she was sure he would have been elegant, handsome in a suit, certainly not the kind of man who would look twice at her daughter.
"Did you happen to meet any other prospective mates?" She asked the question she had been itching to ask.
Arielle averted her eyes, it was quite clear what her answer was.
"But you should have, baby girl," she said to her daughter. "Denzel isn't the only one, you know. Besides, what are the chances that he would even consider you if he already has a mate?"
Arielle kept her eyes fixed on her fingers, her lips shot out in a pout.
"But you should have seen Denzel, mom, he was so handsome," Arielle said, sulkily, like a child. "I've always felt this ... this irresistible attraction towards him, and at the ball I didn't know what to do but follow him."
Janey nodded to herself.
"I still think you should have kept your eyes out for other mates, baby," she said softly. "With how beautiful you looked, especially in that dress, you could have gotten a trail of wolves following you, I'm sure. Forget about that Denzel once and for all."
Janey knew just what she was doing, trying to lift her daughter's spirit. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the smile spread out on Arielle's face.
"I know, mom," the girl said. "I know I looked so pretty. There were few, if any, girls in that ball that could match my beauty. Well, maybe you're right, maybe I ought to take my eyes from Denzel."
"How about Reid, didn't you see him?" Janey asked.
"Not even a glance, mom," Arielle responded. "I didn't even catch a glance of him. I'm not sure he was at the ball."
Just then, Mr. Zaynader came running down the stairs, ungainly in his form. It was obvious he had hastily put on his clothes — his tie was askew, and his shirt wasn't properly tucked in.
"What's that honey?" Janey asked her husband.
"What else?" He answered, irritably. "Work. I have to be there for a meeting."
He slid his watch onto his wrist and tried to adjust his belt. Mrs. Zaynader walked up to him, and tried to fix his tie, but he stopped her.
"I have no time for this, honey," he said, kissing her on the forehead. He walked to Arielle and also kissed her forehead before walking out of the house.
Arielle had always considered her parents uncool, but most especially her dad. She did not like to be seen with him in public, and ascribed some of the blame for not getting a mate to him. She thought he was fat and awkward, and the man seemed to know that. He saw the way his daughter was with him in public.
"I think dad ought to lose some weight, don't you mom?" Arielle said, without taking her eyes from her phone.
"Mmmm. Maybe. I think he doesn't look too bad for his age," Mrs. Zaynader replied.
"What? He's fat mom, I mean obese," Arielle half yelled. "What are you talking about?"
"Ohh, don't talk about your dad in such manner, baby," Janey cautioned.
"Ohh, please," Arielle said, rolling her eyes before she stood up and made it to her room.
The day carried on quietly. Mrs. Zaynader remained in the living room watching programme after programme on television, and Arielle stayed put in her room throughout. In the outhouse, Claudine lay on the bed, body battered, stomach growling from hunger.