Not So Loved (West Coast Campus Book 2)

Chapter 31

Maeve

I hate my fucking life sometimes.

Guess who called yesterday demanding I either pay the rent or have everything out by tomorrow?

My dad's fucking landlord.

Who tells me dad hasn't paid the rent in almost six months and if I don't want to end up paying the rent for him and possibly having to go to court for his fees, then everything inside and out has to be gone by tomorrow.

To-morr-ow. Fucking ridiculous.

Johns usually a nice dude. I've known him since before Rhys when we first moved into the trailer park. He's a good landlord but unfortunately fell for my parents act and let us practically live here for free most of the time.

Looks like he got sick of dads shit and decided to do something about it, which then fell under my responsibility because I have no idea whether or not Dad is out of rehab yet, even though it's been close to two weeks.

So I took Rhys's truck over to Dad's trailer with a shit tons of boxes so I can pack everything out and then dispose of it at the nearest dump.

Rhys is coming over after practice with Mike so they can help me, even thought I've told them I don't need it. They didn't hear me though as Rhys texts me saying he should be here in twenty minutes.

I was hesitant about bringing Liam here so Allie took him off my hands for the night. He was so fucking excited he'd get to spend the night cuddling with Noah-which I didn't know that was something he could with anyone but Allie-and Leo.

The trailer is a fucking mess. Garbage covers every fucking corner, smashed glass littering the floor so I throw on some latex gloves and shove all of it into over a dozen trash bags.

I swear I even saw a few mice trying to run away. Bleh.

I wipe down everything.

The cabinets which have a nice film of cigarette smoke laying on top of them, the walls, the floors. Anything I could think of so John can get this fucking trailer off my hands.

I'm distracted, mumbling and grunting to myself as I work, gathering all of Liam's toys he's kept here so when the hardwood floor creaks behind me, I ignore it, assuming it's just a rat or something.

There's a few more louder creaks, like someone's walking around in the hall but by the time I turn around, I'm not surprised when my father's fist connects with my face.

The punch leaves me crumpling to the floor, air sucked clean out of my lungs.

"You fucking whore!" Dad snarls as he stomps closer to me, blood shot eyes and the smell of whiskey dripping off him.

And they thought they should release him early with how well he was doing. Amateurs.

"I fucking knew when that boy started creeping around with you again, I knew I should had done something to him in that fucking alley."

"Fuck. You." I spit blood in his face, wiping my mouth clean. I grin up at him, lunging for him but he's not as drunk as I think he is because he fists my hair quickly, dragging me down the hall and into the now open kitchen, thanks to me.

His grip tightens when I fight against him, earning me a slap across the face for my fussing. "Get the fuck off me!" I scream. "Let go!"

He mumbles something to himself so maybe he's high or really is drunk but I'm hoping it's one of those two so I can blame it on that and not the fact that my father is a dick.

Slimy hands grasp my neck, choking me until I stumble to my feet. His eyes meet mine, black circles of fucking death. I bite the air between us.

Probably not a smart thing to do considering he fucking growls and puts all his body weight into launching me against the cabinets.

I feel my head rattle when it hits the sharp corner and I fall against the floor with a thud.

I groan, moaning as I haul myself onto my hands and feet, trying to use the counter to help me stand but it's no use as I just crumble again.

"Dad, if your going to throw me around like a rag fucking doll, could you try to avoid to kitchen? I just deep cleaned-"

"You think I don't know it was you and that fucking boy who sent me to rehab?" He roars, closing the space between us.

I clutch at my head, blinking when my fingers come back red. I stand, stumbling around like I'm the alcoholic here, watching Dad as he stares down at me.

"Oh no. What ever did you do without your precious whiskey and beer-"

Gripping my arm so hard his finger break skin, he rattles me around so much I swear I can feel my brain flip around inside my head. I also note that I should have worn a better bra because the one I have on is definitely not made for abusive fathers.

"That fucking mouth of yours." Dad sneers, throwing me against the tile.

All the breath leaves my lungs when his boot connects with my stomach and shoulder. I curl up into the smallest ball possible, tucking my head in as best as I can as he continues to kick me like a soccer ball.

"I knew, the day you came out of your fucking mother, screaming and crying for attention, I knew, that we should have gotten rid of you earlier." Dad screams, his boot connecting with my face when my arms couldn't protect my head anymore.

This. This is where you're going to die.

He's going to finish you off.

At least I lived past eighteen.

And at least I found Rhys. We didn't get very long but I know Liam will be in good care.

My head drops back against the tile.

My eyes roll back.

Shaking and begging for air, I curl up once again, clenching my eyes shut as hard as I can, ignoring all the pain that's merging into one.

You'll be okay. Just fine.

Rhys is right next to you, telling you how proud he is of you and how much he loves you.

He's holding your hand, stroking your back.

Up and down. Up and down.

Kick after kick after kick.

That's what I tell myself. It's pointless though because I'm wheezing, desperately trying to cling to life as I fade away.

I can feel bones shatter, my heart breaking but it's not painful anymore.

I don't feel the kicks or his snarky remarks anymore.

Suddenly everything's warm and black.

Just close your eyes, Nova. It'll be over soon.

I sob one last time because as much as I know Rhys isn't here telling me those things, it feels so fucking real.

So I close my eyes, and

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