Black Angel

Chapter Five

Zola / Derrick

One month later...

Zola

    While I went to work (I was a secretary in a bureau for finance) and back home during the week – with mom breathing in my neck for being late ten minutes due to the traffic – Derrick and I texted daily. It felt good having him to talk about the weather or what movie to watch. Just about my family issues, that I hadn't the courage for telling him about.
    He knew that I couldn't text him back every second. He knew I couldn't catch his call when mom or dad were at home. And he knew that we couldn't see each other. Well, at least on purpose.
    I caught him a few times after work, standing by his car – which might I add is my dream car: an Audi RS7 – or his bike, waiting for me, just to see me for a few minutes. Or when I was out, grocery shopping with mom (like I was a five-year-old kid that couldn't stay home alone), I also saw him a few times, his eyes shining every time our eyes met.
    But one time – before our eyes met – I also caught him staring into nothing and that's when I realized that under his eyes, there were dark rings. I wondered what he must've go through to get those...
    "Zola! Living room! NOW!" Dad called me. What was happening? I've never heard him that furious. But as I walked towards the living room, I started hearing someone cry. Mom? Was... crying?
   Ugh, she resembled Shreck when she was crying.
    "Is everything okay?" I asked worriedly and a bit scared as I entered the living room, my eyes bouncing between my parents.
    "What..." He got to his feet, his voice dangerously low, "Have you done?" I froze. I didn't do anything. I didn't-
    "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE ZOLA?" Slap. My father hit me his first slap and raised his voice at me for the first time in my life. Normally, the violent part in this house belonged to mom. "When I'm asking you a question, I want you to answer me! Now tell me: What didn't we give you, huh? Did we raise you to be a thief? WHY did you steal your mom's jewelry?" I froze even more.
    Me? Stealing mom's jewelry?
    "What would I be doing with that dad? No, for real. Tell me, I'm curious." That was my first time speaking up to him. I may be a bad daughter in their eyes, or useless and probably even worthless. But I was anything but a thief. I wouldn't let that insult sit on me. Not this time. Enough is enough. Well, I guess today would be a day full of first's.
    "You tell me. You are the one who stole them. I assume you'll have quite the interesting explanation to give." He gave my mother – who suddenly stopped crying – a tissue and crossed his arms over his chest.
    "Is it for your car? Do you want to pledge them and keep the money? Or..." He took a step towards me, and I raised my chin to look him in his face, my eyes burning with rage and disbelief as hot tears threatened to fall down my eyes. "Or what, father?" Finally, a tear full of rage escaped my eye. I lifted my chin even more to look him directly in his eyes and called him father on purpose. He hates when I call him father instead of dad. He thought father was too formal.
    "Or is it for your new boyfriend? Did he tell you to steal it so you two can spend the money on whatever you have in mind?"
    I froze one more time. My new what?! Did they mean Derrick? But how the fuck and where the fuck did they see him, or whether us? We weren't even together.
    Did she see Derrick in the grocery store? No, she would've roast you by now. Did she go through my phone? Could be possible since you're not allowed to have a pin-code. Or did someone see us outside the office? Don't talk bullshit, you didn't even touch him.
    What. Was. Happening?!
    "Why are you not saying anything, Zola. What did I tell you just two minutes ago? When I am asking you a question, you are to answer me! Understand?" He pointed his finger in my face and ripped me out of that trance-like... Paralysis I was trapped in.    
    "I. Didn't. Steal. Anything." I said through gritted teeth when I caught myself again. Before he could say anything about that, I added "And for your information: I do not have a boyfriend." I don't know where I got the courage to speak in that manner. To my parents, especially.
    "Yeah, I wonder why." Mom murmured under her breath. "What did you just say mom? How can you say this?" My anger was growing and I couldn't stop my words from escaping my mouth anymore. For the very first time, I lost control over my body.
    "Look at you! Why would anyone want a girlfriend – or also just a regular friend – with that look of yours? With that belly, the unnaturally curly hair, that ugly face... Also nobody wants or needs a thief as a girlfriend in-" that was the last drop which flooded the glass. My glass of patience and restraint.
    "ENOUGH! I am NOT a thief! I know I am fat and ugly mom, okay? And I certainly do not need you to tell me this! Do you think I'm blind? Do you really think that I don't see all of this when I'm looking in the mirror? Do you really believe that I stole your jewelry?
    Mom, you know that – for the losing weight part – I tried everything for years now. You've witnessed it goddammit!"
    My father was about to interrupt me – most likely for that 'goddammit' – but I held a hand up and for once, he really stayed silent. So, I forged on with my speech.
    "I've tried every single diet. I quit meat, then you told me I needed that proteins and that I should quit bread and flour instead. Potato chips and sweets were – either way – never a topic in this house since dad always said it damages our teeth" He was a dentist.
    "Mom, goddammit, I stopped eating properly for months now and still you are not satisfied with anything I do, touch or say. Fuck, mom, in your eyes I even breathe the wrong way, don't I?" Another tear escaped my eye and a scoffing laugh my mouth.
    Mom stayed silent, but her face went crimson with rage. My father soothed a hand over her shoulder.
    "Darling, you calm down."
    Then he'd whisper about doctor in her ear but I couldn't decipher nor could I care even the slightest bit.
    "Do not ever, and I mean ever, accuse me with such disgusting-" I was interrupted by my exploding mother.
    "OUT. OF. MY. HOUSE." Silence. Nobody moved. Not even a slightest bit. "NOW!" She was at the point where she was yelling and pointing towards the door.
    The final words were spoken. But don't you feel free too early. Where do you intend to go? What do you intend to do?
    What I intend to do?
    "Motherfucking gladly!" I stormed out of the living room and into my room. I produced a large bag from under my bed and threw every single piece of clothing I had in there. I didn't even bother folding them, I just needed to get out of here as fast as possible.
    Then I took my suitcase from over my wardrobe and stored my books in there. As if I leave my babies here. Huhh.
    Gladly, the suitcase was big enough for all my books to fit in with even a bit of space left, so I put the purse with my savings in there too. I left everything else to rot in that room, except for my car keys. Everything in this room – and house – was financed by mom and dad. But my car actually I did finance myself. It wasn't my dream car, but it still was my baby. My Volkswagen Polo.
    Without sparing them another glance, I took my suitcase, stationed the bag on top of it and smashed the door behind me after leaving hell, finally.
    Okay, what now? Where am I staying from now on?
    Maybe I should call Macy. "Doooooood ... dooooood ... Hello, here's Macy's mailbox..."
    I didn't listen to the rest.
    Oh shit. I forgot that Ruby asked us two to accompany her to Italy for a shopping trip due to her nearing wedding. But mom – of course – didn't allow me, so they decided to go in twos.
    Fuck. And now?

Derrick

    In that one month where I texted Zola on a daily basis, I started feeling human again. Slowly, but still. It sucked that I couldn't see her every day or that I couldn't hear her voice when I wanted because she had strict parents.
    The darkness of my past and everything that had happened still haunted me. There were times where I just stood and stared into nothing. My nightmares still as realistic as always, reminding me of the pain when I lost my family and with that every other emotion, replacing them with ice.
   But in the last two weeks I also received some letters, and I shuddered when I recognized the handwriting. My past didn't want to let go of me.
    You got yourself a nice new little toy, Rick.
    Still living in that house, Rick? I thought you'd upgrade yourself since then.
    Just wait till we reach out for you. You'll have a new job.
    Cocksuckers. I knew it was a mistake not to move somewhere else. But that they knew about her, made my blood run cold even more. What if they're coming for her? What if-
    My phone buzzed.
    Zola.
    "Hello?" Her voice was shaky. My alarm bells rang. "Hello? Zola, what happened? Is everything alright?" Silence, the only thing interrupting it her sniffs. "Umm... Could I come over for a moment? I need you help w-with... something."
    "Of course. I'll pick you up, send me your location." Concern pierced my tone. "No, no. Just... just you send me your location. I'll be there."
    So, I did. I wanted her to stay on the phone until she was here, and she agreed. Twenty minutes later she hung up and when I was about to call her again, the doorbell rang. I got there in three strides and when I opened the door, red hazel eyes met my concerned gray ones.
    "Come here." I pulled her into an embrace, and she let out a sob.
    I wouldn't have imagined our first, proper hug being with her crying in my arms.
    I lead her into the living room, closing the door behind us. Sitting her down on the couch, I went to the kitchen to get her some water so she could calm down.
    "Tell me sweetheart. What happened? Who did this to you?" I put my hand on her back while she was drinking the water I got for her, my face written by concern. Her eyes focused on a spot in the faraway, but eventually, she started speaking, her eyes never leaving that spot she was staring at.
    "I told you that my family was difficult, remember?" I nodded when she turned her head for a brief second before turning it right back to the spot. Then she continued. "That was an understatement. As pathetic as that may sound," I took her hand and squeezed it a bit for assurance that it isn't pathetic. "My mother never loved me. When I was a child, well, after the age of nine, she started the ... violent part of the parenting. She slapped me across the face when she told me to do something, and I said 'gimme a second please' instead of obeying instantly. Once I had to pee in public, but mom didn't bother helping me to find the restroom. When we were home two hours later she saw that I'd pee myself due to her carelessness – and yes, she just let me walk around like that – and ... she slapped me again and ... she pulled me into my room ... a lighter in her hand ... and ..." she let out a sob and I pulled her a bit closer so she could feel comfort in my warmth. "She pulled my pants and underwear down to ..." sniff "She lit the lighter, held it between my legs ... and ..." sniff "Well, I have a scar down there now."
    She didn't say the words, but I understood. How could her mother do that to her nine fucking year-old child? Where was her father when that happened?
    She tried to cover her irritation for – I assumed – telling someone those things with a chuckle before she continued, her eyes still glued to the spot. When a tear escaped her eye, I rubbed it away with my thumb.
    "My father was always the passive parent. Sure, he taught me how to ride a bike, he even bought me my first one. It was a pink one with glitter. For a ten-year-old girl that was amazing but thinking of it now just shows me how pathetic and naive I was in the past."
    I interrupted her for a second. "Zola, you were not pathetic. You were just a child." I stroked her hair and dropped my hand again on her back.
    She forged on.
    "Long story short: I was living with narcissistic parents. Until today." She took a sip of water and, after clearing her throat, she finally turned to look at me and asked me something I wouldn't ever imagine hearing. At least not now.
    "Could I stay here for a while?"