Daughter of the Demon (I)

Daughter of the Demon-3-Behind Closed Doors

Chapter 3: Behind Closed Doors

~Jacob~

I was an idiot. What was I thinking?

I froze with my hand pressed against the cool wood of my dad’s study doors. I couldn’t go in there. Nobody ever went in there. My father worked day and night and never emerged, only being fed by the food Mom occasionally slid through to him. All I ever saw were pale, shaky hands as they took the trey and slammed the door shut again.

My mother was depressed about my father, so she took on a busy job. She was out of the house a lot, so she got a permanent nannie to look after my little brother and I. Her name was Belinda and she was really nice, but I was always angry. Never at her, but at the fact that my little seven-year-old brother would be raised by a nannie and not by his birth parents. Life wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t.

I walked into the kitchen, dropping my backpack in a chair and grabbing a glass from the cabinet. I poured myself a glass of milk and took a cookie from the place Belinda made fresh on the table. Belinda came in with her long brown hair tumbling down her shoulders and her bright green eyes a little curious. “How was school?” She asked in her strange accent, taking a cookie for herself. “You seem a little distracted.”

I clinked the glass back on the counter and wiped the milk off my upper lip with the back of my hand. “It was fine,” I said lamely, turning my back on her and putting the glass in the sink.

“You don’t seem fine,” she pressed.

“I am, so would you just drop it?” I snapped crushing a small glass in my grip. It shattered over my arm and tiny shards of glass drew mini crimson droplets. “Damn,” I muttered.

“No swearing,” Belinda scolded first, then took a rag and grabbed my arm with gentle fingers. She turned it right-side up and dabbed at the blood. “There. See? All better.”

I pulled away and thudded into a kitchen chair. I took another cookie and chomped hard on it.

“Something angers you?” Belinda asked innocently.

“I’m always angry,” I grumbled.

That sent her into a soft silence. Then she said, “I’m very sorry about that.”

“Why? I never asked anybody to be sorry for me.” I know what you’re thinking. I was a total prick being mean to Belinda when she never did anything to me. I was quite the bastard. Didn't need to tell me twice.

 “You are right, Jacob, you never asked. But it’s my job to worry.”

“Sounds like a pretty sucky job to me.” You can shut up now, Jacob.

“I like my job.”

“Makes sense.” Shut your fucking mouth.

Belinda swallowed hard and narrowed her eyes. “Jacob, it’s my job while you’re mother’s away to make sure you and your brother grow up to me polite, well-rounded men. Whether or not you ever choose to accept me as your “parent” doesn’t matter. I’m here, so please, get used to it.”

I stared at her, and I only bit my tongue for the sake of my younger brother, Tony, when he waddled in.

“Hey, Tony,” I said bitterly as he climbed up onto Belinda’s lap. He adored Belinda, but I told myself that was because he never really saw much if any of his parents. Curse my ignorant mother. Curse my absent father. Curse Belinda and her niceness. Curse me and my stupidity.

“I’ll be in my room,” I growled, swinging my backpack over my shoulder and leaving the kitchen, taking the steps two at a time. I threw my backpack in a corner and turned my buzzing cell phone off. Angelina would not stop texting me or calling me and I didn't even have any idea how she got my number. It was probably Trevor. He could fill a swimming pool with the amount of drool he emitted in her presence.