Deck of Cards

Day 47- Sally

Two of clubs- cursed at for 7hrs

Sally's POV

It was harrowing to pack my things away after being in the house for what seemed like years when in reality it was only a week. One measly week. The idea of safety was so unfamilair I couldn't help shielding my face when we stepped outside as a huge group; I was expecting someone to shoot at us or place bags over our heads. Instead I was just greeted by the country air hitting my like a wall of cold and the eery silence that covered every part of the place.

We stood in silence until we heard the whir of an engine and a beep of a horn coming from the cars in front of us. We were going our separate ways, those of us that had family would go back to them whether we liked it or not. Ava and Jen would go off to temporary accommodation seeing as they were both over 18.

My mother was doing that gesture to hurry up and I gave her a strained smiled; I really didn't want to annoy her but I also didn't want to rush maybe the last time I would see the girls I had ended up relying on. Beneath the sheen of awkwardness,there was a real warmth for each other. Hugging everyone and making promises that I knew would be broken almost instantly, I grudgingly got into the back of my parent's car and watched as they all waved at me before going back into their own conversation.

The pang of jealousy never really left.

"Are you glad to be rid of that place?" My mother said with a grimace, looking at my father who was even thinner than before.

"Yes mother," I replied coldly, not wanting to discuss my friends with her. She hated them with a burning passion that stemmed from nothing really, she just didn't like them.

"Is that all you'll give us, I came out of hospital for you," my father shouted causing me to jump in my seat. My mother looked ahead as she drove, not acknowledging what was happening. I sat back in my seat spellbound, they were acting as if it was my fault for being placed in the protection home and forcing them to come and collect their traumatized daughter.

Sighing I looked out the window and stared blankly as the trees disappeared and were replaced by houses. My father was loudly ranting about how the hospital staff were fools and mother nodded along although we all knew she wasn't listening. She never did.

Our street came into view and instead of feeling overwhelming joy I just felt relief from getting out of the tense car. Father glared at me as we walked in, me lugging my suitcase through the door when no one offered to help me. The house smelt as it always did- detergent. Clean freaks.

"Go upstairs and unpack before dinner," my mother said quietly and I obliged, wanting to get away from them as quickly as possible. My room had been tided since I left, it felt all too prepped. All too prepared. Downstairs I could hear the drum of the TV and the clattering of cutlery as my mother set the table, making sure everything was in perfect place. She was afraid of my father, she had been for quite a long time. He lost his temper, blamed it on his illness instead of facing up to the truth. They weren't right for each other.

"Sally," a shrill voice broke my thoughts and I rushed down the stairs hoping that they had lifted their foul moods.

Father was sat glaring at the table like it had cursed at him and mother was staring at the wall with her thin lips pursed. I sat down awkwardly at the table and placed my napkin on my lap hoping that someone would speak soon to release the tension. Instead, mother grabbed the plates and food and settled it on the table without making a sound. It looked delicious but the uneasiness in my stomach stopped me from inhaling it all in one sitting.

"It looks lovely dear," my father said with blank eyes and in a monotone but my mother still smiled like a schoolgirl. It made my heart break, he obviously didn't love her anymore. At least not as much as he did yet her affection was unbreakable.

"Better than what I used to have," I said with a smile hoping that conversation would spark soon.

"Would you shut up about you stupid experience? We get it, you were kidnapped!" My father threw his hands up in the air, his brandy spilling all over the floor behind him. My mother simply stood up like a robot and began to mop it up with a cloth, staring at the floor as if ignoring what was going on around her would solve her problems.

"Dad how could you say that?" I choked as tears began to roll down my cheeks from his harsh and inconsiderate words.

"You were gone for 30 days my dear, people go missing for months. Maybe even years. 30 measly days," his words were laced with venom. My eyes narrowed as anger began to bubble inside of me. I wanted to kill him.

"You try and live in a cell being constantly abused and beaten. Psychologically tormented. You tell me how easy that is!" I shrieked at him before standing up to make a statement. I wanted to slap him, I really did. But instead I contained my urges and simply left the table to storm upstairs where I could be alone and without his evil eyes boring into my soul. He had changed.

I waited for my mother to come up and apologise for him like she usually did. I was debating whether I should take it, whether I should finally put my foot down. I waited for the knock to sound on my door, for her to come in with a face full of sadness.

But she never did.

She was on his side.

I was fighting yet another battle.