Ruthless

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

She blinked at me, shock written on her face as she actually registered what was going on.

"I-I don't- what-ha-" Her hand clapped over her mouth as her eyes widened. A final look of shock flitted across her face before she replaced it with an emotionless mask I'd seen her use several times before.

I raised my hand shaking my head and began walking back up the stairs.

"Can I come in or what?" I asked, rolling my eyes, ignoring her expression as I brushed past her, hoisting my battered, blue duffel further up my shoulder.

"Y-yes, of course darling, come in," I heard her whisper behind me.

I walked in immediately engulfed in the smell of cinnamon. In other words the smell of my 'home'. My mother's cook, Roza, made cinnamon buns every day for as long as I could remember, making our house smell permanently of cinnamon. Not much had changed around here. The mirror by the front door had been taken down and the table below it looked as if it has had a recent paint coat. The walls were still the familiar cream colour I remembered, although they'd probably received a new lick of paint since I'd last been here. Large, grand paintings and family portraits had replaced the old, out-dated ones as well as some of the furniture. Everything looked luxurious. The potpourri had been changed to different colours yet I couldn't recognise a change in smell. I dusted my feet on same red carpet we've had for years and quickly padded over to the sitting room where my dad was slouched, reading a picture book to a little boy.

"Who was at the door Ruby? I bet it wa-" He began to say with a small smile on his face as I leaned against the door frame, the smile immediately slid off when his eyes set upon mine.

"Erica?" He snapped the book shut as he got off the couch and walked over to me. "Is that you?" He asked softly. His hair had thinned out, the pecan coloured strands, melting into a silvery grey. He pulled at the waistband of his khaki pants, his big gut spilling over it.

"Who's this, grandpa?" The little boy's voice came out as barely a whisper as he tugged on my dad's pants. Wait, did he just say grandpa?

"Uh," he scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably, his eyes unwilling to leave mine as if I was going to disappear if he looked away. "Go upstairs and ask your mummy to finish off the story."

The boy nodded and without question scurried straight past me and upstairs clutching the book tightly in his arms.

"Well," I used my hand to push me off the door-frame. "Guess who's back?" I smirked as I continued walking over in big strides to one of the velvet love-seats, crossing my legs and dumping my old duffel bag beside me.

"Erica? I -I don't understand. You-You're back?" Dad stuttered, his piercing grey eyes widening slightly as he registered what was going on.

"It's pretty obvious isn't it?" I stood up and walked over to the open plan kitchen. "Anything good to eat?" I asked, already opening the cupboard doors.

"Erm, there's still a few cinnamon buns left on the counter that Roza made this morning." called out Mum in a high pitched voice. I knew when my mum spoke like this she was nervous.

"No need to be nervous mum, it's only me after all." I smirked, taking a big bite into the cinnamon bun.

She nodded, taking a seat on the couch.

"So what's new guys? Any gossip?" I forced out a laugh as they stared at me cautiously, walking back into the sitting room, the heels of my boots smacking against the tiles fill the silence.

"Erica we need to ta-"

"Anyone died? Anyone knocked up?" I question cutting off my mother whilst pacing up and down the sitting room.